A Cultural Experience of a Different Kind
by WinchesterPhantom
Summary: HP/SPN. When a freak vision leads the Winchesters to the land of knights, wizards and castles, Hogwarts and the Magical community will never be the same again...
1. It Just Doesn't Mix

_Okay, so here is my story again. I will admit here and now that this is pretty much a rewrite (for the first couple of chapters). Some of the chapters you'll be like this is the same but I'm trying to add more D&M to them and keep characters in character and not out of character and of course making a couple of little changes to them. Anyway I hope you all enjoy this chapter._

**Summary:** HP x-overSam has a vision about Harry Potter, and the Winchesters head over to England to save him. But what happens when the Winchesters are set lose in England? Set just before the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and after the Supernatural Season Two episode What Is And What Should Never Be

**Warning:** May contain spoilers for both Harry Potter (book 1 to 7) and Supernatural (season 1 to 2).

**Disclaimer:** Of course I don't own Harry Potter and Supernatural. Can you see I'm just rolling in cash?

* * *

**A Cultural Experience of a Different Kind**

**Chapter One: It Just Doesn't Mix**

_**Salem, New York**_

The night air was full of noise and laughter. The main street of Salem was packed with party goers who were all looking for a good night out, a break from a world full of deadlines and bosses. Suddenly a dull rumble filled the night air. A black 1967 Chevy Impala pulled up in front of one of the many bars and nobody thought twice about the car. The engine cut of suddenly and two men sprung out of the car.

They headed into a large bar called 'The Lion's Tape'. One of the men carried a laptop case with him, and hid his face behind a screen of messy dark brown hair. He dwarfed the other man and when he did reveal his face he revealed smooth, innocent, chocolate brown eyes that melted a few of the The Lion Tape's female occupants hearts.

The other man though shorter, was well muscled with short but light brown hair with odd spikes sticking up. His eyes were a violent, menacing green that twinkled in amusement. He had an infectious smile and immediately left his friend and started flirting with a blonde woman with more leg then brain.

Both men were dressed similarly- jeans, boots, layered t-shirts- but their personalities were completely opposite. The shorter one was a real ladies man. He had a go at everything- pool, darts, and cards, and also collected more numbers then most men could collect in a month. The taller one was more solitary. He talked to the girls but didn't go out there as much as his friend. He also kept to his laptop and looked like he would belong more comfortably in a library then a crowded bar in Salem.

Occasionally the shorter man would check up with his friend and the two would have a quick grave discussion that usually left one of them saying something humorous to end it. To everyone in the bar the men were just two friends just wanting a break from college, wanting some fun.

Little did they know, the two men were Sam and Dean Winchester. Wanted felons, brothers, and hunters of the Supernatural.

* * *

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean as he hustled yet more money out of the poor innocent fools. It didn't matter what bar they went to, the same story always happened, unless they were on a job that was. 

He ordered another beer and drank it quickly staring at the laptop screen, desperately trying to find a decent hunt for the two to go on. So far the best he could find was a bunch of canines that had started doing back flips.

He drained the bottle and looked at his watch. It was midnight. Sam got up and yawned, packing away his laptop. He motioned to Dean to leave. Dean nodded sourly and pecked the brunette he had been talking to for the last hour goodbye.

Sam started towards the door and just as his hand brushed against the door knob, his head throbbed, and his vision began to go in a swirl of insane colours. He gripped his head and his knees gave way, sending him crashing to the floor, face screwed up in contorted pain.

"Sammy?" said Dean, worried. He ran over to his little brother and tried to get him up. To his shock, Sam was unconscious.

"Someone call 911!" he yelled.

* * *

_A cool white mist crept, swirled and danced before Sam's eyes. He let the vision wash over him, like a stream of hot water. Over time Sam had discovered though the transition into a vision was painful the actual vision was calming and relaxing._

_Sam observed the scene around him. He saw a small graveyard that was hidden in inky blackness. He saw the outline of a small wooden church to his right that had a large yew tree hanging over it. Then he realised this wasn't a usual vision. Normally it was like watching a movie, this time Sam was actually in it. He could even feel the night air blowing against his skin._

_Sam stepped forward and his right hand brushed over something. He looked down to see a sign. Squinting his eyes he read, _

**LITTLE HANGLETON CEMETRY, ENGLAND**

**And Let Thou Spirit Rest In Peace**

_Sam blinked in shock. England? Remembering that all his dreams connected with the demon in some way he wondered if the demon was going global, which kind of freaked him out._

_Before Sam could blink the graveyard illuminated in a brilliant white light. Sam turned his attention to the source. He stepped back in shock._

_A circle of men wearing strange hooded black robes surrounded a gravestone reading_

**TOM RIDDLE**

_He noted also a tall thin man, with malevolent red eyes that sent a chill down Sam's spine, and a pale black haired boy with brilliant green eyes almost like Dean's, with an obscure lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The red eyed man and the boy seemed to be locked in a cosmic battle. Both held out before themselves thin wooden sticks with a beam of white light connecting the two sticks together._

_Suddenly the connection disappeared and the boy made a run for it. Sam watched as the boy ran towards a lifeless corpse. The boy dived and grabbed the dead body's hand and the red eyed man cried out into the night- "Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!"_

* * *

Hospitals are all the same. 

They all have the same long white corridors with bright lights that pierce your skin. Waiting rooms full of people hanging around for news on loved ones or for their appointment. Beautiful receptionists and sometimes hot nurses, old doctors that wheeze every time they speak, and young interns excited about their work.

The Winchesters were used to hospitals having spent most of their childhood in them at some point in time. And once again they were in one, this one the Salem County General. Dean didn't mind this one. At least this hospital had good looking nurses.

Dean sat in a worn out leather chair watching his brother's chest rise and fall. They were in a shared ward with an old grandfather who had his grandchildren visiting. The mother didn't like the look of Dean, and Dean found himself rolling his eyes as she told her children not to look or speak to him.

"'s 'm I?" stammered Sam as he awoke, "Dee?"

Dean blinked. Sammy's first word was "Dee," He swallowed and replied, "How you feeling Sammy?"

"I…" yawned Sam and he opened his eyes. He surveyed his surroundings for a second and said, "What happened? What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock. You passed out, had to call 911," said Dean, "I'm disappointed Sam,"

"Why?"

"You only had what? Two beers? Are you sure you're my brother?"

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean and said, "Shut up jerk,"

"So what happened in your …"

"Vision?" supplied Sam. Dean nodded and Sam continued, "I dunno, it's still a bit hazy. Alcohol and visions don't mix,"

"I dunno Sam," said Dean thoughtfully, "I mean the whole pot thing worked for Andy and his powers,"

Sam chuckled at the mention of Andy. He missed Andy really, after all he was the only non suicidal psychic Sam knew besides Ava, but she was missing, and had been for a few good months.

"Yeah, but I'm not Andy,"

"Yeah, Andy was cooler then you, less dark side if you get my drift,"

"In what way?" said Sam raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing, it's just, well… Andy, I could so see with a song about butterflies with him in it, but you? Angst, emo, the list is endless,"

"Yeah, whatever lover boy," said Sam, "So what happened when I passed out?"

"Called 911. Got you to the hospital. You came around but the doctors couldn't get a response out of you. They kept on talking about stomach pumps and shit, and then you passed out again,"

"That vision really screwed me up,"

"That's hardly it," said Dean, "You wouldn't shut up. You were asleep but you kept on muttering, but around three o'clock you went quiet,"

Sam rubbed his head, "I can't remember any of it except…"

"The vision?"

"Yeah, but it's still hazy," said Sam straining to remember, "So you stayed up the whole night?"

Dean shrugged, and murmured something about catching a few hours. A doctor walked into the room and headed over to Sam's bed.

"I'm grateful to see your awake and well Mr. Nelson," he said formally to Sam.

"Thanks ahhh…."

"Doctor Murphy," said Murphy.

"Okay," said Sam, "So when can I get out of here?"

"We would like to keep you here for a few days in case of a relapse –"

"So when can Michael leave?" interrupted Dean.

Murphy looked slightly flustered and said, "We'd just like to run a few tests and Michael should be free to go,"

"Great," said Sam, smiling. He didn't like hospitals, reminded him too much of when Dean was in a coma.

Murphy ran some tests on Sam and soon the Winchesters were set to leave. They walked through the carpark and clambered into the Impala. They started to drive towards the hotel they had been staying in.

"So what do you remember?" asked Dean. Sam didn't answer, his attention on a young girl playing with her dog. He watched as she raised a stick to throw and suddenly the vision flashed before his eyes.

Dean noticed his brother suddenly close his eyes and his body tense up and stopped the car.

"Sammy?"

"I'm fine, just a little flashback. C'mon, keep on driving,"

Dean shot his little brother a worried look again and started up the engine. They continued and didn't stop until they reached the hotel. Once they had paid for their room they sat down.

Sam lay on his bed, eyes closed, muttering Latin under his breath, whilst Dean sat up, legs stretched out on his bed.

"So, vision?"

Sam snapped his eyes open and said, "It was this graveyard and this demon, well not a demon, but a snake man –"

"Snake man?"

"Yeah a dude that had snakelike features. Like slitted eyes, real white skin, and he didn't seem to have a nose –"

"Shit!" swore Dean.

"You know what we're dealing with?" asked Sam looking over at Dean, shock written on his face.

"Give me some credit Sam," said Dean, "I'm surprised you didn't work it out,"

"So what are we dealing with then genius?"

Dean cracked a grin and said simply, "Michael Jackson,"

Sam snorted in laughter and said, "Yeah, okay brainiac. Anyway this snake dude was holding this stick; like I dunno, a wand I suppose, and was shooting energy at this kid, like he was only fourteen years old. Oh yeah and there were all these people in like black Ku Klux Clan robes surrounding the snake dude and this kid,"

"So we are dealing with Michael Jackson and the KKK who seem to be attacking some teenager?"

"Yeah,"

"Great," said Dean cheerfully, "So any idea of where this is going to happen?"

Sam gulped and said, "England,"

"You have got to be kidding me?"

"Nope,"

* * *

Research will get you only so far. 

Sam thought they needed to go to England but Dean wasn't so sure. After all they didn't even know what they were facing, so there was no point in going halfway across the world. So they set up the impossible task of trying to find out what creature had been in Sam's vision.

They found nothing, and after three days of fruitless searching and many calls to various hunters that they knew, they still had no idea about what they were dealing with. But after Sam's insistence that they should go, Dean agreed.

They knew they couldn't go by plane, since Dean was terrified of flying, and he refused to leave the Impala behind. Also, with all the terrorist scares they could hardly take a whole load of weapons on board a plane with them. In the end, they decided to make the week long trip by cruise ship.

They rigged up fake ID's and passports bearing the names Jason and Matt Bourne; and got the Impala safely on board with the few weapons they could take. Luckily Bobby had a contact in London that owed him big time, so they could collect more hunting materials when they reached England.

The only thing Dean could say was that it had better be worth it.

* * *

_Okay did everyone like the chapter? I hope you all do and please do leave reviews (sorry to nag!) telling me if you either love it or hate it or want to send it to hell! _


	2. We're Not In Kansas Anymore

_And here is the second chapter...enjoy!_**

* * *

**

**Chapter Two: We're Not In Kansas Anymore…**

_**London, England**_

Tall, brooding, white haired and blue eyed. That was Damien Armstrong to his neighbours. A man of mystery, who kept to himself, and believed in satanic rituals. But who could blame them, when they saw their neighbour making large circles of salt, or drawing strange occult symbols.

The whole neighbourhood thought he was odd, but little did they know Damien was a retired hunter. Not that you can retire from hunting, once a hunter always a hunter.

The neighbours weren't used to Mr. Armstrong having guests, so when a black '67 Chevy Impala pulled up in front of Damien's house one day, revealing two young men, they were curious.

* * *

Sam and Dean walked up to the front door of the Armstrong place. They noticed a few of the neighbours had stopped their gardening pursuits to stare at them. The Winchesters ignored them and reached forward to knock on the brass knocker on the door. 

The door creaked open to reveal an old man with hard blue eyes. The man examined the two brothers for a second. He clicked his tongue in approval and let them inside.

"Winchester I presume?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Dean awkwardly, "And you're Damien Armstrong?"

"What do you think?" said Damien rolling his eyes, "Go into the living room, but first –" he pulled out a canteen full of liquid and handed it Sam and Dean, "drink this,"

"Holy Water?" mused Sam.

"You can't be too careful," shrugged Damien. Sam nodded and took a swig, and then passed it onto Dean, who mimicked his brother's action. Damien nodded in relief and took the canteen.

"Okay, if you go into the living room I'll be back with your stuff," grunted Damien, gesturing to the living room. Sam and Dean nodded and proceeded inside. They sat down on a tattered couch and glanced around.

The room reminded them so much of Bobby's place, and indeed of the many hotel rooms they had seen when they were growing up. Dream catchers hung around the room, strange ancient symbols were drawn across the walls, old books of Demonology and other strange objects. Sam's sharp eyes picked up a large shiny silver athame on the side board below the window. He stood up.

"What is it, Sam?" asked Dean. Sam shushed him, and proceeded forward. He picked up the knife and examined it. It was a real beauty, brilliant craftsmanship, perfectly balanced. Sam had never seen a knife of this standard before. Dean got up, and went over to Sam. He took the knife out of Sam's hands, and just like his brother before him, he was entranced by the beauty of it.

"She's a beauty, ain't she?" came Damien's voice from behind them. The Winchesters turned sharply and Dean placed the knife back down.

"Yeah, where you did you get it?" asked Dean.

"In a market one day," shrugged Damien, "Got given it by a funny little man. He said it was mine, made for me, and that they wouldn't hold it as a loan,"

"What?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, I know, strange. But this is hunting we're talking about, so what could I do? Took it and it's saved my ass plenty of times," said Damien, dropping a large bag full of hunting materials on the crowded coffee table, "You can have it if you want,"

"Its fine," said Dean.

"For you maybe, but your little brother, he's in love," chuckled Damien, "Seriously take it, I have no need for it,"

Sam lifted up the knife and said simply, "Thanks,"

"Don't," said Damien, "Anyway moving along. I took the curtsey to collect some weapons for you boys. You're lucky to know Bobby,"

"How d'you know Bobby?"

"We got into it together. He saved my ass, big time,"

"And that's why you –"

"Owe him? Yeah, great man. Your dad was also pretty good, could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but he was a rookie so who could really blame him,"

"You knew our dad?" asked Dean quickly.

"Yeah, if I remember correctly I was the one that introduced him to Daniel Elkins. So anyway, how is John these days?"

"He's dead,"

"Sorry, didn't know," said Damien, "Anyway back to business. You have all your standard, shotguns, and handguns, even got you a Winchester rifle," Dean's eyes lightened up, "Silver, bronze bullets, consecrated wrought irons, pretty much your basics. Also threw in a couple of knives- bronze, gold, silver and even put in a copper and some fake ID's, if you need anything else say now or forever hold your peace,"

"Nah, that should cover us," said Dean looking over to Sam as if to ask him if they needed anything.

"Yeah we're good,"

"Good," said Damien, "So where's you're car? So we can load these?"

"Outside,"

"Bring her round back. By the way, what are you boys hunting?"

Sam and Dean looked between each other, unsure what to say.

"It's nothing," said Damien quickly, "It's just odd that a bunch of Yanks would all the way to England for a hunt, unless something big was going on," Damien raised an eyebrow, "And since it's been pretty quite recently, I want to know why you're here,"

"Well, um…the thing is we don't really know what we're hunting," said Dean embarrassed.

"What!?!?"

"Well yeah," said Sam, "We don't actually know, and trust me we've looked,"

"I'm going to pretend I just didn't hear that," said Damien, rolling his eyes, "So where are you hunting exactly?"

"Little Hangleton," said Dean casually, he noticed Damien's shocked expression, and added "You know it?"

"Hardly, that's a hard place to crack," said Damien shaking his head, "You boys really are John's, taking on the impossible. Bloody stupid I'd call it, but who knows? Well, if it'll help you I have some information on that village,"

"What's so bad about Little Hangleton?" asked Sam.

"You can't find shit, that's what," said Damien, "I've always known something fishy has been going on there, but to actually find evidence? You can't, it just vanishes. Who knows, maybe you'll do better then me?" he shrugged saying the last comment, more to himself than Sam and Dean, "Anyway, let's get your car round back and load her up, oh and also, whatever mess you boys get yourself into, don't come crawling back to me,"

* * *

_**Greater Hangleton, England**_

The Winchesters reached Greater Hangleton late afternoon that day. They had contemplated staying in Little Hangleton but after much thought the two brothers decided it was safer staying in a more heavily populated area, and as Dean put it, the last little town they had been in had all its inhabitants infected by a demonic virus.

They parked in front of a dodgy little hotel and collected their bags. They wandered into the hotel reception. Dean grinned and winked at the pretty ginger headed receptionist. She smiled back showing gleaming white teeth.

"What can I do for you two gentlemen?" she asked.

"A room, two doubles," said Sam quickly wanting to have a shower.

"Okay," she said. She produced two keys and handed them to Sam and Dean. They handled the transaction and then Sam went off to their room.

"Sorry 'bout him," shrugged Dean, "Little brothers eh? Anyway thanks um…"

"Nicola,"

"Thanks Nicola," said Dean and then went after his brother. He went into the room and said, "I think, Sam, this room is one of the best one's we've stayed in,"

"And why is that?" asked Sam, unpacking his belongings.

"Well, for starters we're in England, which reminds me that after this hunt we are so going to Paris, and also those curtains are the finest I've ever seen,"

"Pink lace?" smirked Sam.

"Yeah, they don't do that in America," laughed Dean, sitting down on the end of his bed, "So anyway, you take a look at Damien's file?"

"Yeah," said Sam, "It's pretty good. But Damien seems to have taken care of it, so I dunno where my vision is coming into it,"

Dean thought about it for a moment and said, "Maybe it's something new, like… remember when our house in Lawrence got infected by those Poltergeists, and Missouri said it was because great evil had once been there and how it attracted other evil things?"

"Yeah,"

"Well maybe something really bad happened in Little Hangleton and it attracted something else?"

"Yeah maybe, but where does the demon come into this? I don't get it Dean, all of my visions have some kind of connection to the demon, or demons, so why here?" questioned Sam, running his hands through his hair.

"I dunno Sammy, we'll work it out. But in the meantime, let's go over that file," said Dean seriously. Sam nodded and took out the file and set it out on the table.

"Okay so what I can gather from Damien's file i that half a century ago, a family was killed in this mansion, quite close to the graveyard where I had my vision. Now the house is called the Riddle House, since the deaths,"

"Who were the victims?" inquired Dean.

"Mary and Thomas Riddle and their adult son, Tom. From what I can actually read out of this, Tom cooked up quite a scandal, run off with a tramp's daughter or something like that. He eventually came back though and everyone thought he had been hoodwinked. And this is where my vision starts to tie in, in the graveyard I saw a gravestone, and on it read –"

"Tom Riddle? So whatever killed them, was probably a vengeful spirit, possibly the pissed off ex,"

"Hell hath no fury like a women scorned," quoted Sam with a small shrug, "Still doesn't explain the snake dude, or my vision for that matter,"

"Sam, maybe you were just drunk,"

"Dean, I know what I saw!"

"I'm just saying, you said it yourself, visions and alcohol don't mix,"

"Yeah, whatever dude,"

Dean sighed and asked, "So what were the causes of death?"

"According to the autopsy report, and damn Damien is good, each of the victims had a look of pure terror on their faces,"

"What the hell?"

"In other words, scared to death. No other causes, in fact, the Riddle's were in perfect health, so no sign of disease, wounds, or of being poisoned. Now I've never heard a spirit killing so smoothly but then again…. . It's possible that's it's the ex, who goes by the name of Merope Gaunt. That also fits in with the fact that no one saw her after she and her Romeo ran off, "

"Okay, so if this is a haunting, then wouldn't Damien have salted and burned?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but –"

"But…?"

"Well over a year ago the Riddle's gardener, Frank Bryce, was murdered. Same MO as the Riddles, and police only found about it a week after his estimated death, in the grounds,"

"What were the police doing up there?"

"Well apparently no one had heard or seen Frank, so they decided to go up and check, you know in case he had broken a leg and was lying the grounds somewhere," shrugged Sam, "Anyway according to this file, Damien couldn't find the bones. He went to Maggie Winston, who was the maid that found the Riddles, and asked if she knew where the Gaunts were buried,"

"And she didn't…next step would've been their house. Got an address?"

"Nope,"

"Off to see Maggie then," said Dean cheerfully, "Damn, she had better have cookies,"

"What?"

"Old ladies equal cookies,"

"Dean!"

* * *

They went to Maggie's the next day. 

Maggie Winston's house was an old Victorian house with a wide front terrace. Dean pulled the Impala up front. They got out and walked up the front steps. A single wind chime could be heard in the distance.

"Now, that's not creepy," said Dean pointing at a large black crucifix by the front door. Sam eyed the cross uneasily and shrugged. He rapped on the door. It creaked open to reveal a little old lady, with snow white hair and a smiling face. Her chocolate brown eyes twinkled in the early morning sunlight.

"Hello. Who are you? If you're collecting for charity I'll just go and get my purse," she said softly in a warm cheery voice looking at Sam and Dean.

"No Ms. Winston. We're Agents Johnson and Young from the FBI, on secondment to Scotland Yard. We would like to ask you a few questions about the Riddle murders," said Sam in a calm soothing voice. Maggie's eyes widened and swallowed deeply.

"Of course, come right in," she said ushering the boys inside to the lounge. They sat down and Maggie said, "Would you like some tea and cookies?"

Dean shot Sam a look of complete triumph and said, "Yes please m'am,"

Maggie nodded, oblivious to the look Dean had just gave and went into the kitchen. Dean leaned back in the old couch and smirked at Sam.

"I told you so, college boy,"

"Whatever," mumbled Sam as Maggie came back into the room carrying a tray with tea and cookies. She sat down across from Sam and Dean taking a sip from her tea. Dean reached forward and began eating a cookie.

"So what would you like to know?" asked Maggie. Dean opened his mouth to speak but Sam nudged him to close his mouth as it was full of cookie.

"About the day you found the Riddles. We believe it may help us to find the culprit,"

"I haven't thought about in so long," said Maggie, "I remember the day I found out Frank had died, that poor man, a war hero he was. Sure, he lived a quiet unsocial life but really he was quite nice. He didn't deserve what happened to him, neither did the Riddles even though many people would say they did,"

"What do you mean?" pressed on Sam whilst Dean desperately tried to swallow the cookie.

"The Riddles were the richest family in the area. I remember their home; it was beautiful, fine taste. But they weren't kind hearted. Mr and Mrs Riddle were especially snobby, looking down at every Tom, Dick and Harry. And their son Tom was no better. The day he ran off with the tramps daughter really put the Riddles in their place," Maggie paused as if savouring the memory, "But I suppose I'm slipping off the subject. Anyway, about sixteen years after Tom had returned to the house, I found the Riddles. I'd come up to work and had said hello to Frank. He told me to tell the Riddles that he had seen some unknown black haired pale skinned boy around the grounds last night, and that the boy may be planning a break in. So assuring him that I'd pass on the message, I went up to the house and strangely the back door was open. The house was empty. Normally by that time Mrs. Riddle would be sitting at the dining room table listening to the radio. It didn't felt right, and then on instinct I went into the drawing room and –"

A single tear fell down Maggie's face and her cup shook violently in her hands.

"And I saw them there, dead, eyes open, cold as ice, still dressed in their dinner things. It was such a shock," long pause, "Nobody ever liked them, but no one would ever kill them. And then when they arrested poor Frank – true, the evidence was against him since he lived on the grounds and he had a key to their house, but I knew he couldn't have killed them. But now he's dead too, it's horrible, just like the Riddles," sobbed Maggie.

"Ms. Winston we understand your pain but did you noticed anything else, anything unusual?" asked Sam.

"No, nothing, just them lying down dead, everything else was in place as if ready for the next morning," said Maggie voice still shaking.

"Okay Ms. Winston," said Dean who had now swallowed his cookie, "We were just wondering. You said Tom Riddle ran off with a girl. Do you know where she lived?"

"Oh yes, Merope Gaunt I think her name was. She lived on the other side of the hill from the Riddle house. I never went to her house, her family was quite dangerous, father a drunk and brother no better, but I heard Tom talking about her house and where it was. It's funny though, he hated her and then one day he just left in love with her, and when he came back he hated her again,"

"Thank you Ms. Winston," said Sam politely, with a small bow of his head. Sam and Dean both rose and left the house. Maggie bid them farewell and gave the Winchesters them the final directions.

They walked to the Impala and slid in. Dean started up the engine. No words were spoken, they knew where they had to go. They drove through the English countryside, and came up to Little Hangleton. It was pretty little village with many old buildings.

They continued their drive up onto the hill where the Riddle House loomed. It had once been very beautiful and elegant but now the grand house had fallen into despair.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I reckon after the salt and burn we should check out the house,"

"Yeah, after all Damien should of already salt and burnt the damn bones,"

"This isn't making much sense is it?"

"No, but don't worry, we'll figure it out, we always do,"

"Thanks, Dean,"

Dean shrugged and continued driving, eyes trained on the road like a hawk. They drove past the Riddle House and the Winchester's spines seemed to tingle at the sight of it. They kept on driving until they were on a dirty, old, country road. They headed round a large bend and came upon the fallen down remains of a wooden house.

Dean stopped the car, and they both got out and went to the boot and grabbed a bag full of matches, salt, petrol, and shovels. They proceeded into the house.

"This place is a dump, and it smells funny," commented Dean wrinkling his nose. Sam nodded, fighting the urge to throw up Maggie's cookies.

They went into what they thought was the kitchen (or was it the bathroom) and saw a burnt mark.

"Damien paid a visit," said Sam. Dean ignored his brother and went into one of the other rooms. All of a sudden Sam heard his brother kick something, something that sounded hollow.

"Sam?" called Dean. Sam followed his brother's voice and saw Dean staring down at a boarded up fireplace. Dean winked at Sam and kicked down the boards. He bent down and pulled out a small touch from his pocket and shined it in the fireplace.

"Freaking hell," said Dean, pulling out a roll of snake skin, a collection of crushed human skulls, and a necklace made of fangs. Dean looked up at Sam, "These people are freaking crazy,"

"Yeah, what do you think?"

"I dunno, but hey, if it was Merope, then that's why you thought you saw a snake dude, since her family was obliviously into snakes,"

"Still doesn't add up with the kid," said Sam and then it hit him, "The kid in my vision he matched the description of the kid Maggie said Frank saw!"

"So, some local kid? Could be possession?" thought Dean aloud.

"Yeah, maybe… I dunno, old yellow eyes attacked the Riddle's and…"

"Still doesn't explain though how our demon is possessing the same kid, I mean, that kid from Frank's time should be like sixty,"

"And also, in my vision the kid was being attacked,"

The Winchesters pondered it for a second. Dean broke the silence and said, "Sam let's head back to the hotel. We'll check out the Riddle House tomorrow, besides I need to make us some more fake ID's so we can pose as extermination guys,"

"Yeah, okay," agreed Sam, "Just one last check to see if there are any more bones around here,"

That night the Winchesters sat in a pub in Greater Hangleton, enjoying a nice roast lamb and a cold glass of beer. Around eight, the two brothers began hustling pool, in between Dean was flirting with various girls.

At around a quarter to nine, Sam started to develop a splitting head ache. Dean noticed and they left the bar, Sam cradling his head in his hands. Just as they reached the car, Sam collapsed to the ground.

"Oh shit, Sammy," swore Dean wondering what he should do. He bent down and tried to shake Sam awake but he couldn't reach him. Dean ran his hands through his hair and groaned.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He went to the boot and grabbed a bottle of Holy Water. Unscrewing the lid he poured the entire contents on Sam's face. Sam's eyes snapped open and he sat up.

"Dean, we got to go," said Sam, urgency evident in his voice.

"Where?"

"Graveyard, vision happening, now!"

Dean nodded and helped Sam into the Impala. He slid into the driver's seat and kick started the engine. With a load roar, the Impala was off with a speed to rival most race cars.

"So any ideas on how to kill Mister Snake?" said Dean, spinning the wheel to turn a sharp corner.

"Sort of, since he's like half snake half human, maybe he's like a weresnake? But there isn't a full moon, so…" suggested Sam, straining to clear his head.

"So silver bullet straight to the heart then,"

The Impala continued to sped across the English countryside. The Winchesters just hit Little Hangleton, and suddenly a brilliant white light erupted from the graveyard. Dean gunned the engine.

They arrived at the cemetery, where Dean parked the car. They sprung out and went to the boot. They took a handgun each and loaded them with silver bullets. Dean slammed the boot down and they took off at a run towards the light.

Sam blinked, as he felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu hit him. Just like his vision, no it wasn't, because he was here.

"I think the kid is a good guy," said Dean quickly, examining the scene before him. Suddenly the light went out.

"I'll help the kid, you distract the rest," yelled Sam, running forward, keeping low to the ground. Dean nodded and immediately fired off a shot at a running robed figure. It hit directly in the back. Something told Dean that they were dealing with humans. He pushed this aside and fired off another shot.

Meanwhile, Sam had just reached the kid. He smiled, as the crowd were distracted with Dean and hadn't noticed him yet.

"What the?" asked the boy in shock.

"I'm Sam Winchester, that's Dean," said Sam in a rushed, low tone, "We're going to help,"

"Harry Potter," said Harry quickly, "Why is he…?"

"Firing off bullets? Only thing that'll kill them,"

Harry looked at Sam dumbfounded and choked, "Your Muggles?"

"What?"

"Never mind," said Harry, suddenly his eyes widened and he screamed, "Watch OUT!"

Sam snapped around, and raised his gun and shot. A small silver bullet shot out and whirled through the air and hit its target directly in the heart. The figure crumpled to the ground. Sam turned back to see Harry raise a stick and cry out, _"Accio Cup!"_

Sam stood back in shock as a large silver cup rose and pelted towards Harry. Harry hand's grabbed the cup handle and suddenly he was gone, along with another body, a dead body. Sam gasped and before he could process what he had just seen and voice said behind him, "Lower your weapon or die!"

Sam spun around to meet a masked figure holding up a long pointy wooden stick. In normal circumstances, Sam would have kicked this guy's ass, but somehow that stick looked more dangerous then any gun Sam had ever seen. He glanced over at Dean and saw Dean, weaponless, hands above his head, surrounded by yet even more figures with sticks. Sam sighed and lowered his gun, straightened up, holding his hands above his hand.

The figure motioned for Sam to move forward and he obeyed silently. The snake man looked between Sam and Dean with extreme distaste. Though the darkness of the night obscured the man's face, Sam could still feel the murderous hate emitting from him.

"It seems, we have two uninvited guests at our little reunion," said the snake man, coldly. He raised his own stick and pointed it at Sam, instantly. Dean and Sam looked at each other, confusion written all over their faces. Sam could tell it must be dangerous, but still, a stick.

"What the hell?" said Dean.

"Two Muggles, it seems," said the snake man, in (if it was possible) an even more annoyed voice.

"What's a Muggle?" asked Sam.

"A non magic person," supplied a figure, helpfully. Sam shivered at how human the voice sound.

"So, what are you guys like, I dunno, wizards or something?" asked Dean, the amusement clear in his voice, "Well, I won't stop you from going to Middle Earth then,"

"Dean, they're serious," said Sam.

"Sam, wizards? You can't be –" Dean suddenly stopped as another figure pointed a stick at him. Dean looked at the stick uneasily and said, "Yeah…okay…wizard then…sure whatever,"

"Enough!" said the snake man, "You two are going to be among the first Muggles to know the wrath of the Dark Lord!"

"Hey buddy, you touch my little brother and I'll make sure you're pushing up daisies for the rest of you life,"

"You're hardly in the position to be making threats," said the snake man, turning to Dean, amused.

"Wanna bet?" replied Dean in a cocky tone. Sam though, knew what Dean was trying to do, the message was clear from his brother's eyes, _'I'll distract them, make them angry, then you get the hell outta here,'_.

The snake man chuckled, "I think escape is out of the question,"

"How did you –" started Sam and then the snake man turned back to Sam, raised his wand and said softly, _"Crucio,"_

Sam watched as a red energy erupted from the end of the stick – no, make that wand, not stick. The energy snaked and danced through the air, and finally, it hit Sam. Sam gasped in shock, as suddenly his body erupted in pain. He fell to the ground, tears burning down his face, hands digging into the ground. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt, it was like one thousand red hot nails boring into his very flesh. Suddenly, the pain subsided, as quickly as a bad dream. Sam looked up at the snake man, who was clearly enjoying the young man's pain.

"Who are you?" spat out Sam, in a bated breath.

"I am Lord Voldemort!"

Maybe the name was supposed to have some effect on the Winchesters, but neither boy even batted an eyelid. In fact Dean snorted in nervous laughter, and Sam felt himself smile at the sound of it.

"What is so funny?" asked Voldemort, clearly offended.

"Nothing,"

Voldemort and sighed, "It would seem, you two, still haven't learnt the way things wo –"

"It's your name!" cried out Dean, "Sorry, but it's kind of, well, what can I really say? _Voldemort?_ Next you'll be telling me you're a hobbit, that has the entire eight seasons of Star Trek, and you live in your parent's basement,"

Sam knew that though Voldemort didn't understand a word of what Dean had just said, he got the general drift. He watched as Voldemort's pale face flushed an angry red. He seemed to jump forward to Dean, and stared him straight in the eye. He held up the wand, threatening.

"I will make sure the last breath you ever take will be of you begging for your worthless lif –"

Sam's head began to ache, and his vision started to go unfocused. He blinked and saw Voldemort point the wand straight at Dean's face and roared, _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

A burst of green light erupted in the darkness of the night, Dean let out a gasp of shock and then no more. Dean fell to the ground, green eyes wide and glassy in shock. Hunting is dangerous gig, and sometimes you pull out the short straw, and this time Dean Winchester had done just so.

* * *

_OMG!!!! I KILLED DEAN WINCHESTER_ or did I?_ MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! you'll find out in the next exciting chapter of A Cultural Experience of a Different Kind. and remember to please review to tell me what you, the gerneral public, think!_

_oh yeah btw, i just guessed with the star trek thing, and also an athame is like a ceremonial knife._


	3. Untraceble

_Okay here is chapter 3, I hope you all enjoy it!!! _

_Last Time on a Cultural Experience of a Different Kind:_

Sam's head began to ache, and his vision started to go unfocused. He blinked and saw Voldemort point the wand straight at Dean's face and roared, _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

A burst of green light erupted in the darkness of the night, Dean let out a gasp of shock and then no more. Dean fell to the ground, green eyes wide and glassy in shock. Hunting is dangerous gig, and sometimes you pull out the short straw, and this time Dean Winchester had done just so.

_Now on with the story..._

* * *

**Chapter Three: Untraceable**

_**Little Hangleton Cemetery, England**_

Dean Winchester stared at Lord Voldemort straight in his eye. He was aware of the dreadful wand pointing straight at his heart - but that wasn't what scared him. Death…well that was it. Death, he'd been at its black gates before and had always wondered what it would actually be like to pass through. So no, he wasn't going to beg for his life, maybe for Sam's, as he couldn't let his little brother die.

Suddenly Sam groaned, and Dean flicked his gaze over to Sam, his stomach twisting in a knot. He watched as Sam raised his hands to his head, eyes closed, legs shaking. The symptoms of a vision, and of course it had to be now.

Voldemort looked over to Sam, confused on what was happening to the younger Winchester,

"Sammy?" called Dean, "You okay?"

"What's happening to him?" hissed Voldemort.

"Bite me!"

Voldemort rolled his eyes, "If you don't answer, that's not all he'll be going through!"

Dean's stomach clenched as he remembered the curse that Sam had been hit by before. Sam was tough but no way could he take that curse and a vision on at the same time. Dean opened his mouth and said softly, "He get's visions,"

Voldemort blinked in shock, evaluating the situation and then Sam's eyes snapped open. They weren't the normal smooth innocent brown eyes, but were dark and glazed over, as if Sam wasn't really there. With one look at his little brother's murderous gaze, Dean dropped to the ground. A second later, something whooshed over his hair.

Dean looked up and saw to his astonishment, that all the robed figures and Voldemort had all flown into the air, struck by an invisible force. Dean watched as they hit the ground and groaned, unable to move a muscle.

"_I moved it Dean! Like Max!"_ his little brother's voice chanted in his head.

"No," gasped Dean and then pelted forward. Sam stood still, hair hanging over his eyes, breathing like he'd run a marathon.

"Sammy!" said Dean cautiously. Sam glanced at him and said, "You're dead,"

"No, vision, you had a vision," said Dean, quickly.

"Vision?" asked Sam, as like he was trying to remember something. Suddenly it drew on him and he nodded, "Yeah,"

"C'mon, before they get up," said Dean. He grabbed Sam's arm and the moment he did, the robed figures started to move. As he and Sam ran through the cemetery, the figures rose and shoot energy beams at them. The Winchesters ducked and dove, struggling to reach the faithful leather seats of the Impala. Just as a blast of red light destroyed an entire gravestone, Sam flicked his head back, and all the figures were once again pushed back.

The Winchesters dove into the Impala, and without a single thought, Dean kick started the engine. The last thing the hooded figures saw was the screeching off tyres as the Impala sped off into the depths of the night.

* * *

_**A manor in Scotland**_

The large 16th centaury manor was a piece of art. Surrounded by massive grounds, with rolling green hills, large ancient oak trees and a small gentle stream that run though it. The manor itself was amazing, with ornate finishing's all over, and large bay windows that looked onto the grounds.

The manor belonged to a rich Muggle by the name of Sir David Evans, who was in his late sixties and unfortunately a widower. Normally you could see Sir David wandering the grounds, a book clasped in one hand and a walking stick in the other. But now Sir David was a prisoner in his own house, held under a curse - the Imperius Curse.

After all, a Dark Lord did need to live in style, and Sir David's estate was certainly prime property. Lord Voldemort would rather just waste the Muggle straight away, but decided to keep him alive to change his will so that he became the beneficiary. But in the meantime, Voldemort didn't really mind having the old man locked up in the wine cellar, tied and gagged, whilst Voldemort sat in the large oak decorated study, behind a rich ebony desk. It was a nice change from the dreary living conditions of his father's home.

It had been one week since those two Muggles had gotten away from him, and Voldemort hadn't stopped searching for them. He couldn't work out for starters how they could've known about his rebirth, after all only, he, Wormtail and Barty Crouch Jr. had known.

The other thing that got to him, was that the taller one, Sam - had he heard his name right? Anyway, Sam had magical abilities. But it was a different kind - raw, unpractised but still powerful. It bewildered him how a power like that had remained undetected, Voldemort was sure he would've been able to sense it the moment Sam showed his face.

And what about Dean? Tough, sarcastic, and brave, no doubt a Gryffindor. Voldemort had to admit to himself that Dean could be a possible threat. If Sam's power could remain undetected then maybe Dean could have similar abilities.

He rubbed his forehead, trying to figure it out. He rose and went over to the fireplace and lit a small fire. He stared into the fire, and watched as the flames danced and crackled. It hit him.

"No, it…" he stammered, eyes widening. Suddenly the door opened and Lucius Malfoy, walked in.

"Is everything alright my lord?" asked the Death Eater, quickly. Voldemort nodded and went back to his cool composure. He pulled out his wand and muttered a spell under his breath. An old, ancient book with ageing pages appeared out of thin air and into Voldemort's hands. He flicked threw it.

"What do you want, Lucius?"

"Snape has arrived, and confirmed that Dumbledore is aware of your search for the Muggles. He has also brought to light that Dumbledore is no closer then you are,"

Voldemort nodded, relief flooding his body. He couldn't stand it if the Muggle loving fool beat him to the Muggles. Voldemort paused on a page of his book, memorising it in the swish of a wand.

"Lucius, please get me these ingredients," he said and recited a list of things he required. Lucius nodded, though confused with his Master's request, and went off to find the items. As Lucius left the room, he wondered where he could find some oil of Abramelin and acacia.

* * *

Summoning – the art of calling forward supernatural forces through chants and incantations. 

That hardly describes it, thought Voldemort as he worked. It a dangerous art, especially when you start summoning demons. There are over a thousand known demons in various cultures and you want to be sure you're summoning the correct one; it's a matter of life and death.

The moment Lucius returned, Voldemort got to work, drawing the Sigel of Azazel. He didn't allow any of his Death Eaters to help him, so instead they watched in silence, waiting. Voldemort stood up and surveyed his work. He breathed in relief as he finished and recited something in Latin, under his breath.

Nothing happened; the Death Eaters looked among themselves, confused as to what their master was doing. Voldemort , however, held his composure, waiting.

"Howdy Tom," drawled a Texan accent from behind the Dark Lord. The wizards instantly turned around, wands raised. Voldemort turned to face a middle aged man, who wore jeans, mud caked boots, a flannel shirt with a padded jacket over it. Behind the man, stood a pretty brunette with crystal blue eyes who was in her early twenties, and a tall black man dressed in military clothing, also of a similar age.

"How did you get in, Muggle?!" cried out Lucius. The man smirked and stared at Lucius, a second later, the blonde haired wizard was thrown against the wall by an invisible force.

"I'm disappointed Tom, I expected a warmer welcome," said the man, closing his eyes. He opened them again to reveal insane sickly yellow eyes. The wizards stared in shock, waiting for orders from their Lord.

"Azazel, you hardly deserve a warm welcome," said Voldemort with a small grin.

"Guilty as charged," chuckled the man called Azazel, "So why did you call me at this hour? The last one to summon me, did it in a boiler room, so I offer you may thanks in summoning me in the proper way,"

"I have questions, that only you can answer," said Voldemort simply, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Of course, like how did two Muggle's kick your ass?" chuckled Azazel. Voldemort flushed an angry red.

"For starters Tom," said Azazel, "I'm disappointed,"

"They weren't ordinary Mugg –"

"Define ordinary?" asked Azazel, raising an eyebrow, "I seem to remember that you view anyone without a pure-blood or half-blood status as inferior to yourself, so what could you possibly know about Muggles?"

"Shut up!" roared a large Death Eater, _"Crucio!"_

The curse snaked through the air but Azazel merely raised a hand, and deflected the curse. The curse spiralled back and hit the Death Eater straight in the chest. The Death Eater sunk to the ground, moaning in pain.

"It seems your followers lack manners,"

"And your's don't?" challenged Voldemort. Azazel merely shrugged.

"Maybe at the start, but they're quick learners - aren't you Jakey boy?" said Azazel, addressing the black man.

"Yes sir,"

Azazel smiled and turned back to Voldemort and stated, "You just need to know what buttons to push Tom,"

"Who are the Muggles?" asked Voldemort, sick of playing games.

"The Muggles are called Sam and Dean Winchester," said Azazel. Voldemort watched as the brunette's eyes showed instant recognition of Sam's name. Azazel continued, "But sadly for you, they're off limits,"

"Why?"

The question was met with a little smirk from Azazel.

* * *

_**4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England**_

Harry James Potter woke up to his Uncle Vernon's large red face. He snapped open his brilliant green eyes and winced as his scar burned.

"What the devil were you doing boy?" snarled Uncle Vernon, "You just dropped the dessert!"

Harry sat up and stared in dismay at the ice cream that had fallen on his t-shirt and on the linoleum kitchen floor. Wasn't this the best summer ever?

"Ahhh, I don't feel well," said Harry, "Headache,"

"Well I'd wish you'd tell me this things before you make a huge mess of things!" said Uncle Vernon and standing up, "Take some aspirin, get a drink of water, clean this mess up and then get out of my sight,"

Harry nodded and rose, obeying his uncle's orders instantly. He worked quickly and soon he was in his bedroom again. He sighed and lay down on his bed, head spinning. He had had a vision, he knew it. Of Voldemort summoning something, but what? Harry rubbed his temple frustrated, why could he never remember what he saw? He rolled over to his side and decided as he closed his eyes, that whatever it was the Dark Lord was summoning, it can't be a good thing.

* * *

_**Godric's Hollow, England**_

Snape could hardly believe the events that had just transpired. He quickly left the manor, his greasy black hair hanging over his sallow skin. The moment he was outside the manor's boundaries, he apparated into thin air.

The next second Snape was in Godric's Hollow. He glanced around the empty street he had appeared in, making sure he wasn't being followed. Once sure, the Potion Master snuck along the street in the cover of darkness. He passed a half destroyed house, and stopped for a second.

"Lily," he murmured under his breath, as he stared at it. He shook his head and continued. This wasn't the time to bring up painful old memories he told himself. He stalked forward and came up to a large house.

Snape rapped on the wooden front door with a brass knocker and waited. The door opened slowly, to reveal a tall, ancient old man, with long silvery white hair and half moon spectacles that framed his twinkling blue eyes. The man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

"Severus what has happened?" asked Dumbledore instantly, gesturing for Snape to enter. Snape entered the house and once the door was closed he said, "Demon,"

"What?"

"Voldemort, he's in league with a demon; that goes by the name of Azazel,"

"Azazel? No, it can't be! He hasn't been seen for nearly…"

"Two hundred years?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore gravely. Few knew about the war between demons and humans that had taken place ages ago. Dumbledore had always thought it was foolish that the Ministry had burnt any records about the war, but then again, that was politics for you. In fact Dumbledore had only heard about the war from an old friend, Nicholas Flamel. The subject wasn't an easy topic to discuss, but Flamel had still told Dumbledore about how over two hundred years ago, a demon called Azazel had led an army from hell. He hadn't stopped until an unknown man had sent him back to hell.

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his chin, eyebrows furrowed, muttering dead languages under his breath. Azazel was back, Voldemort was back and Muggle's were now fighting wizards? It was almost like the last war, minus Voldemort of course.

"Professor, how could he come back? I remember you telling me that he was sent to hell," asked Snape.

"He was, but then again…what else did you hear about this Azazel?"

"It appears that the Muggles that saved Potter in June are off limits. He kept on making references about his followers, two of them were actually with him, a girl called Ava and a man named Jake, both American,"

Dumbledore nodded and dismissed Snape. As he saw his old friend disappear from his living room window, he wondered how two Muggles could possibly get messed up in demonic affairs.

* * *

_**Sleep (Un)Easy Motel, London, England**_

They hadn't talked about what had happened in the graveyard for weeks. When they had first hit the road, both of them could barely speak in the shock. Hunting had taught them to expect the unexpected, to be ready for whatever life throws at you …. but wizards? As Sam put it, it was like Lord of the Rings in the twentieth centaury.

But when the brother's did talk about Sam's sudden explosion, they were wallflowers. Dean had never quite believed Sam, when his little brother had told him that he had made the wardrobe move when he had been trapped by Max. Or maybe he did, he just didn't want to think that his little brother had powers.

Sam was awkward, unsure what to think. He knew if he could use the ability properly, it would be really handy on hunts, but he knew it was beyond his control. He was sure he could only use it in times of danger to his family.

So now, three weeks after the graveyard incident, the brothers Winchester were on the road again. They regularly moved around, staying in heavily populated areas to throw the wizards off their scent. Dean spotted a Motel with a vacancy sign in the Wimbledon, London and pulled up into the car park.

The two brothers, grabbed their belongings, and quickly got into the Motel Reception and out of the boiling hot sun. They went quickly to their room.

"Hope it has air con," muttered Dean as he twisted the key in the lock. The door clicked open and the Winchesters walked in.

"No another fan," said Sam, sadly, "I never knew that summer's could get so hot here,"

"I miss America; I'm more used to the weather,"

"The weather back home is almost Canadian though,"

"Yeah whatever, dips first shower," said Dean. He dumped his stuff on the bed closest to the window and proceeded into the bathroom. Sam rolled his eyes and called, "Be quick,"

"Yes mother!"

Sam sighed and started setting up their defences. They went through the same process at every new motel. Not sure on what would keep away a wizard, they tried everything they could think of, even Dream Catchers.

After all, they still weren't sure about the wizards. They had looked into it, but so far all they could conclude was what the rest of the world knew. Sam didn't like it, they were so human…he didn't like to think that he had shot a real human. It seemed so cold blooded.

Dean came out of the shower, looking refreshed and clean shaven. He pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and relieved Sam of the work, so Sam could have a shower.

Later on that night, they lay on their beds watching an episode of Neighbours. They were both confused about the plot line, since have never seen an episode in their life. Dean made a comment about visiting Australia after all this wizard business cleared up. Sam nodded, agreeing, commenting it couldn't be worse than Canada.

Just as the ending theme song for Neighbours concluded and the next show commenced, Dean was suddenly struck with an idea.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how the wizard's are kind of human?"

"Yeah…"

"Well then, maybe there have been more deaths like in Little Hangleton. As far as we know the wizards could move around alot,"

"Yeah…why didn't we think of this before?"

"We've had a lot of stuff on our minds," said Dean truthfully. Sam nodded and reached over to his laptop and turned it on.

"So same MO?"

"Yeah, who knows we might get lucky,"

"Like you don't get lucky enough," muttered Sam under his breath.

"What was that Sammy?"

"It's Sam," said Sam, smiling. Dean smiled back and turned back to the TV, though not really watching it. After five minutes Sam had found something.

"What?"

"Godric's Hollow about thirteen years ago, James and Lily Potter were murdered, same MO, and guess what?"

"What? They were members of a cult?"

"Their son, Harry went missing on that same night. He'd be about the same age as that boy we saw in the cemetry,"

"And so the plot thickens,"

* * *

_**Godric's Hollow, England**_

Dumbledore wanted to pull out his beard in frustration. He couldn't believe that he couldn't find them. He'd tried everything. Hell, he'd even sent Fawkes to find them, but not even his phoenix could locate the Winchesters.

He didn't understand it, but all he knew that powerful old magic was at work.

* * *

_**Cold Oak, South Dakota, America**_

It was like Hogwarts. Except instead of having a caring, perky Headmaster that liked ten pin bowling, a boy destined to defeat a Dark Lord, a red head trying to compete with his siblings, a bushy haired book worm, a slimy git of a Potions Master, a strict yet somewhat caring Transfiguration teacher, and a group of English school children; you have a bunch of suicidal twenty two year old psychics from all over the world, and one seriously bad Demon with yellow eyes. Come to think of it, it wasn't much like Hogwarts at all, more like a demonic boot camp.

Oh yeah, and you don't have a really cool castle with lots of ghosts and an annoying poltergeist; instead you have frontier land. This was Cold Oak, the training place for Azazel's soldiers.

Azazel at that moment was watching as a Brazilian girl, named Monicawho was trying to hit different sized targets with bolts of blue lightning. He smiled as she hit a target directly.

"Well done, champ," he said. Monica nodded her blue eyes no longer sweet and innocent as they had been. He continued on to say, "Next we'll try moving targets,"

"What about _living_ targets?"

"First let's improve your aim," said Azazel, sharply. Monica nodded and went to set up some more targets. Azazel felt a little buzz on the edge of his mind.

"Dumbledore," he murmured. He was getting sick of the wizard's attempts to locate the Winchesters. He closed his eyes and redirected the magic from the elderly wizard away from the brothers. He didn't know why he bothered, but then again if the Winchesters were going to meet Dumbledore, he'd prefer that they approach him, not the other way around.

He turned his attention back to Monica who had just set up the targets again. He called for a boy called Kiyoshi.

"Kiyoshi-kun, help Monica," he said to a small Japanese boy.

"Yes Azazel-sensei," said Kiyoshi with a small bow of his head.

* * *

_**Godric's Hollow, England**_

The Impala drove into the quiet town of Godric's Hollow. It had only taken them a few hours to drive, and the Winchesters were relieved to be out of the city and into the country. London might have been fun if they hadn't been under self house arrest during their stay.

Anyway they rented a room at the local inn and began investigating. A lot of people were very suspicious of the boys when they started asking about the Potters, so they got hardly any answers. They retired to the pub and sat down, drinking a glass of Guinness.

"Rough day?" asked the barkeep.

"You could say that," said Sam.

"What happened?"

"We're writing this report for school, about the Potters," said Dean, dimly.

"The Potters? Well no wonder, this town, well…" said the barkeep leaning into to talk in barely a whisper, "There are strange people around these parts; the Potters were one of them. Now if you know what's good for you, you'll leave,"

"What d'you mean?" asked Sam, raising an eyebrow.

"Well after their deaths, the police investigating forgot about it, like someone had erased their memory or something. And the Potter's house, vanished, completely gone, one moment it was there, half in ruins, the next Poof!"

"You ever head over to their house?" asked Sam and at the barkeep's expression added quickly, "To pay respects and stuff,"

"I've always thought about going there, but every time I try it's like I have to be somewhere else, funny eh?"

"Yeah,"

"Where was their house exactly?" asked Dean. The barkeep told them. Suddenly the bar door opened and an elderly man with a long silvery white beard entered.

"The usual Albus?" called the barkeep.

"You know it Gregory," smiled the man, coming up to sit near the Winchesters. Dean was getting an uneasy feeling about the man, paid, and the two brothers left. They decided when they got to the inn - they were going to pay a little visit to where the Potters used to live.

* * *

_Well did you all like it? Btw Neighbours is a real TV Show (it's filmed in Australia) in case you don't know...and yeah...Nicholas Flamel was like 600 yrs old when he died in HP1 and dumbledore is only like 150 when he dies, so yeah..._

_Oh yeah and what does every1 think about me posting this in the Harry Potter section? anyway thnx for reading!_


	4. Knights In Flannel Shirts

**Chapter Four: Knights In Flannel Shirts**

_**Godric's Hollow, England**_

Albus Dumbledore sat in the local village pub. He had just arrived back from London, after trying to convince Fudge that Voldemort was back. In ordinary circumstances Albus wouldn't be such a pest to Fudge, but now in the light of Azazel's return, he knew things could get started very quickly.

The barkeep, Gregory, came up to him and placed down a tall glass of whiskey.

"Cheers," smiled Dumbledore, taking a drink. He looked as two strangers, young men, possibly in their twenties, paid and left the pub. His eye's narrowed- something wasn't right about them.

"Gregory?" he called. Gregory turned away from the glass he was cleaning and went over to the wizard.

"What's the problem, Albus?"

"Who were those men?"

"Just college students passing through,"

"How come?"

"No reason," shrugged Gregory.

"No reason?" questioned Albus. Gregory's eyes suddenly seemed to glaze over and suddenly he said, "They were interested in local history,"

Albus frowned, local history? Godric's Hollow had no significant muggle local history. Sure it's wizarding history was plentiful, but those men weren't wizards, they didn't have that look about them for starters.

"Did you catch their names?" inquired Albus.

"No, actually," answered Gregory. Albus frowned, leaned in and asked in a hushed voice, "What were they asking about?"

Gregory told the elderly wizard everything; after all they didn't call Dumbledore one of the most skilled partitioners of Legilimency for nothing.

* * *

Sam and Dean drove the Impala quickly through the quiet streets of Godric's Hollow. The town seemed to have plunged into darkness and yet the heat hadn't left. Sam could feel his t-shirt sticking to the leather in the heat. 

"Dean?"

"…"

"Yeah, you need to get an air con,"

"Sam, driver picks the –"

"Dean! We're not even listening to music!"

"Sorry man, the heat," said Dean simply and he wound down the car window. Sam rolled his eyes and silently agreed that the heat was getting to him too.

"Much further?"

"Nah," replied Dean. He turned left down a street that was occupied with small cottages. He stopped the car in front of the Potter residence. The two brothers climbed out, flicked on their torches and went up to the fence.

"Sam, how does a whole house just disappear?" asked Dean, shining the torch over the fence.

"Dean! What do you mean – the house is still there!" said Sam, turning to his big brother.

"Sam, there isn't anything there, just an empty block of land,"

"I swear to God, there is a house there!" exclaimed Sam, turning back to the house, "It's covered in ivy and falling apart. The right hand side of the top storey looks like it's been blown apart". He turned to Dean, "You can see it? Can't you?"

"Sam…there isn't anything there," said Dean, shaking his head at Sam, "Just empty space,"

"Dean, there is, I don't know why you can't see it, but there is something there,"

Dean shrugged; slightly annoyed that he couldn't see the house. They went up to the gate, and Sam placed his hand on the rusty old gate. Suddenly Sam leapt back, crushing Dean's toe.

"Bitch" swore Dean, "What happened?"

"It's a tablet," breathed Sam, leaning in as if reading something.

"Sam, there isn't anything there!"

"_On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry remains the only wizard alive to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a remainder of the violence that tore apart their family,_" read Sam. He drew to his full height and looked at Dean, "I guess you can't see it..."

"Because I'm not magic?" said Dean, rolling his eyes, "Freaking hell…so, Harry Potter? The kid from the cemetery,"

"Yeah, and that's not all, writing all over this thing, is stuff like _'Good luck Harry wherever you are'_, _'If you read this Harry we're all behind you'_, and even _'Long live Harry Potter!'_,"

"That kid is like frigging King Arthur," said Dean, shaking his head in disbelief.

"…,"

"So – so far we know that some wizards are after him, and that Voldie is also after him, since Harry gave him the slip all those years ago and now he wants revenge,"

"Yeah, he'll need protection,"

"I don't know how we'd find him though," said Dean, "I have a feeling, that wizards are like hunters,"

"How?"

"We do what we do and we shut up about it," replied Dean, "And wizards really emphasise on the shut up part. Normal people can't see what they can see for starters…"

"And I'm not normal?"

"No Sammy, remember we're freaks,"

"Yeah, according to Hendrickson,"

"And to every other person that doesn't know about things that go bump in the night," shrugged Dean with a small smile, "So we want to go in?"

"Don't think it'll be much use…since you can't see the damn place,"

"Yeah. This sucks so mu – SAM!" yelped Dean as suddenly, Sam gripped his head and collapsed to the ground, shaking. Dean bent down and cradled his brother's overgrown figure in his arms.

"Dean…" gasped Sam, looking up into Dean's green eyes.

"Yeah"

"Harry being attacked…"

"Okay, c'mon let's go," said Dean quickly, pulling Sam up and taking him over to the car. Sam slid onto the car seat with Dean helping him.

"So do you know where Harry was being att-"

"DEAN!" yelled Sam, suddenly, raising an arm and pointing. Dean turned his head to the right side of the road and suddenly saw an old man appear out of no where.

"Thanks Haley Joel," muttered Dean, under his breath, drawing a handgun. The old man, as if sensing the danger, quickly drew a stick, no a wand. Dean's eyes widened and the next second he pulled the trigger.

**BANG!**

Albus Dumbledore didn't know why he didn't use the shield charm. Had it been a wizard he would have, he would have reacted in an instant. But he hadn't expected the Muggle to fire. He hadn't actually thought of the possibility that maybe they would react this quickly. Then again, if a demon was after them, then they must be trained to react like that.

The old wizard lay on the ground, shaking. He looked down to his chest, to a big bloody wound. He breathed, relieved that the bullet hadn't hit him in the heart. He knew enough about Muggles to know that he would be dead if that happened.

Albus raised his head, struggling to draw breath. The man that had shot was getting into the car. Suddenly the engine cut through the night, and the car screeched away. Albus groaned and pointed his wand at his wound.

"_Wingardium Leviousa,"_ he murmured. The bullet lifted out of his wound, and Dumbledore quickly healed it with a spell. As he rose, the area where the bullet had hit, stung, and throbbed. He rubbed it and then disappeared into thin air.

He had found the Winchesters, and he wasn't going to let them go.

* * *

_**English Countryside**_

They didn't stop driving. Sam was desperately trying to find out where Harry had been attacked in his vision, but all he knew was that it happened in an alleyway, with a large boy, probably Harry's age. It wasn't a lot to go on.

"Got anything?" asked Dean for what seemed the hundredth time, whilst Sam tapped away on the laptop, thankful that his laptop had a massive internet range. Who could blame him? He had no idea where he as going, all he knew he had to get out of Godric's Hollow as fast as possible.

"Yeah…I searched for a Harry Potter right? And turns out there is a Harry James Potter in residence in Little Whinging. He lives with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon Dursley and his cousin Dudley,"

"Fugly names," chucked Dean.

"Whatever, anyway I looked into it a bit more, and Petunia used to have a sister called Lily who got married to a James Potter,"

"Bingo," said Dean, "So got an address?"

"Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. I'll call Damien, ask him for directions,"

"Terrific."

* * *

_**4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England**_

Harry stormed off from his Aunt and Uncle's house, in the heat of the summer afternoon. He knew he'd be in trouble with them later for his rudeness. But after fourteen years of being told what to do and never standing up for himself; it felt good to make them mad- hell, it was the best he'd felt.

His summer holidays, were never good, in fact, Harry dreaded them. This one was no exception to the rule. However this time, living in Privet Drive with his magic despising relatives had reached its all time low. Harry couldn't help and feel frustrated that Voldemort was back and he was stuck here.

He remembered the sound he'd heard before, and sighed. It hadn't been a magical sound, he decided, just a car backfiring. He'd personally prefer for it to be a wizard but the chances of that were less then zero.

* * *

The Impala seemed to roar in joy as they raced along the motorway. Dean gripped the steering wheel, whilst Sam gave directions. They passed through endless stretches of countryside and through suburbia.

They reached Little Whinging, when the sun was staring to set.

"Shit, it's like Stepford," commented Dean, as they drove past an endless stretch of houses, that all looked exactly the same. Sam looked at Dean and said, "It sorta reminds of that housing development place we went to once,"

"The one with the killer bugs?"

"Yep,"

"So you thought of what the things in your vision might be?"

Sam, thought for a moment and said, "Now I think about it, it reminded me of a Shritigia, but not quite,"

"Consecrated wrought irons then," said Dean, "I hope,"

"Me too,"

They reached number four, and Dean parked out front. The Winchesters each grabbed fake ID's.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Since these one's say we're English police, accent,"

Dean looked at Sam and said, "You're joking right?"

"Nope,"

"Perfect," said Dean with a shrug. The Winchesters rose out of the Impala and proceeded to the front door of number four. They passed the dying hedge, and wilting flowers, and reached the front door. Sam pressed the doorbell.

The door opened to reveal a large man, with hardly any neck and a big thick moustache. Behind him stood a tall thin woman, who had a long neck and perfect blonde hair.

"Hello Mr and Mrs Dursley," said Sam in a thick English accent.

"We don't give to charity, we don't want any –"

"We were wondering if we could have a word to a Harry Potter," said Dean, smoothly showing his badge.

"What trouble has that boy got into this time?" growled Vernon.

"None, we just wanted to have a word with him," said Sam quickly, as he saw the man before him glow red.

"He isn't here right now," said Vernon stiffly.

"Okay, well when he turns up, call us," said Dean, writing down his phone number quickly and handing it to Vernon. The Dursleys shut the door and the Winchesters wandered back to the Impala. They hopped in.

"Well they aren't assholes or anything," commented Dean dryly. The next second, the sky darkened, the air grew cold, and the wind changed direction, dramatically.

"Drive," said Sam, but Dean didn't need to be told. He gunned the engine and they flew down the street to the source. They came up to an alleyway and saw two lone boys entering it, arguing. They raced to the boot and grabbed some weapons.

Sam froze as he watched the creatures flew down. They were almost like those grim reapers you saw in dodgy horror films, except they were real, very real.

"Shit!" swore Sam.

"What Sam?" asked Dean franticly, sensing that something was wrong. Sam turned to Dean and swore again.

"You can't see them?"

"What?"

Sam ran his hand through his hair, trying to work it out in his head. It was hard though, every time he thought hard, voices seemed to echo in his head, voices of loved ones gone. He shook his head and raced into his bag and ripped out the PDA, the very same PDA that had saved their lives on the set of Hell Raisers in Hollywood.

Sam turned it on and handed it to Dean. Dean lifted it up and saw the creatures, and gasped, "What the hell!"

* * *

Harry gasped for breath as the Dementor bent over him. His hand stretched out, trying to reach his wand, but it was just out of his reach. His panicked mind seemed to race, so this was how he was going to die, alone in an alleyway, having his happiness sucked out of him. 

Suddenly a bullet whizzed past, sending the Dementor backwards. Harry looked up, as his parents voices screamed in his head, and nearly fainted.

Standing bold as brass, were two knights, dressed in flannel shirts. Sam and Dean Winchester had arrived.

* * *

Sam and Dean saw one of the boys left his head and smile at the sight of them. Instantly he recognised the boy as Harry Potter, the boy from the cemetery. 

The brothers proceeded forward, firing off rounds as they went. Iciness crept into their hearts, and Sam's head seemed to erupt in the screams and voices of loved ones. He gasped for air, as he felt the happiness ripped out of him. He staggered and fell in a crumple.

Dean looked down at his brother, in anger and turned back to the creatures, firing off an endless round of bullets. He looked at the creatures through the PDA, and felt rage build up in him. He felt the terrible feeling of depression creep into his body and he wanted to fall down and leave this but he didn't. It was the creatures that were causing this and it was Dean's job to save his little brother, no matter what.

He raised the gun and shot at the creatures, desperately fighting the cold and dark feelings that were trying to pull him down. He felt no happiness, only loneliness, but he didn't need to be happy to kill these things, just strong.

"Harry, get your friend over here," ordered Dean, shooting away the creatures. The round's had hardly any effect on them but they did distract them. Harry grabbed his cousin and pulled him over to the older Winchester.

"Why isn't this working?" screamed Dean in frustration, realising both Harry, Sam and the other boy were deteriorating quickly.

"Only a Patronus..." stammered Harry, weakly raising his wand. The creatures began to advance on the group, Harry feeling close to faint, whilst Dean was desperately trying to keep the things away from them with little effect.

As they advanced Dean could feel his strength ebbing away. He couldn't give up, he had to save Sammy, he had to keep them safe, that was his job. He dropped onto his knees in despair when he used up his last bullet. The things were but a few feet away, gliding ever closer, when suddenly Sam, Dean, Harry and the larger boy were surrounded by a group of men and women.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ roared the party. All of a sudden a group of semi transparent silvery creatures appeared and began to charge at the cloaked beings. The cloaked beings fled. It all happened very quickly and before Dean could even blink the angelic creatures were gone and the summer warmth had returned.

"Lupin?" asked Harry weakly to one of the men. The man nodded and helped Harry up, whilst the rest of the party helped the Winchesters and his cousin, Dudley.

"What are you –" began Harry. Lupin silenced him and handed the young wizard a piece of chocolate. Dean breathed in slowly and stared at the group.

There were about six people there; the man called Lupin looked middle aged, with greying hair and was wearing shabby robes. Behind him, another man looked horribly disfigured with a large chunk missing from his nose, one small beady eye and one large electric blue one. To his right were two women, one very pretty with short violet hair, the other women pink cheeked and with black hair. Bringing up the rear was another man; square jawed with thick straw coloured hair, and the last man who was tall and black.

The violet woman came over and smiled at Dean.

"Eat this," she said, holding out a piece of chocolate. Every instinct in Dean's body went off like alarm bells; after all you should never take food from strangers. But as the woman forced it into his hands, he gave in and swallowed it. He instantly felt his body warm. He blinked a couple of times and then asked, "Where's Sammy?"

"He's over there," said the woman, pointing to the other side of the alley. Sam sat there, propped against the wall, head bent, silent tears streaming down his face, shaking. Dean got up and stumbled over.

"Is he okay?" asked Dean softly. The disfigured man looked at Dean, pity in his eyes.

"He isn't responding,"

Dean groaned and sat next to Sam, grabbing the chocolate from the man. He was aware that the strangers had begun to talk.

Dean nudged Sam in the ribs. After a long pause Sam looked sideways at Dean, still in his semi-vegetative state.

"Jess…she was…calling…" said Sam slowly, breathing in deeply. The wizards looked at the brothers intrigued. Dean pushed the chocolate into Sam's hands gently.

"Eat it," said Dean, in the exact same tone he had used when they were growing up.

"What…is it?" slurred Sam, ignoring what Dean had said.

"Chocolate, it'll make you better, trust me," said Dean encouragingly. Sam lifted the chocolate tentatively and then began to eat it. After the first few bites Sam's body began to warm and he popped the rest of it into his mouth.

"Better?"

"Yeah," nodded Sam, smiling. Dean breathed in relieved and then turned his attention to the strangers. He eyed them off and then said, "Who the hell are you, what were those things, why couldn't I see those things and Sam could, and how the hell did you appear out of nowhere?"

The group looked at each other uneasily.

"Well in answer to one of your questions, those things were Dementors," said Lupin.

"Dementors? What the hell?"

"Dementors are the wraiths that guard the Azkaban Prison. They feed off people's happiness making someone relive their worst memories. As you found out bullets have no effect," said the sandy haired man in a low growl.

"Then what did you do?" asked Sam looking up.

"The only things that can stop them are a Patronus charm," shrugged the black man.

"Okay," said Dean slowly, "But why couldn't I see them and Sam and you all could? And you guys are wizards aren't you,"

"Yeah, they're wizards, but what do you mean?" asked Harry, "Every time you fired of a bullet it hit one of them,"

The wizards stared at Dean. Dean sighed and answered, "You know the thing I had in my hand?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "The mobile type thing,"

"Yeah, well it was a PDA which has a small camera in it, and camera's are extra sensitive so they can pick up things like ghosts and other supernatural things that otherwise you can't see with the naked eye," shrugged Dean, "But anyway back to my question,"

"Only magical people can see them, in other words Muggles can't see them," said the violet haired woman. "Well…now they can with that PDA thingy you had,"

"Okay," said Dean, "But who –"

"Aren't we ignoring all protocol?" cut in the disfigured man. The group nodded in agreement.

"What protocol?" asked Harry, "And answer his questions,"

"No," said the disfigured man, "First you two," he pointed at the Winchesters, "will answer _**our**_ questions. For starters, who are you?"

Sam and Dean quickly rose and clenched their fists. Their guns were out of reach and empty, but they could still hurt the crap out of these guys. The group seemed to sense what was going through the Winchester's minds and whipped out their wands. Lupin gripped Harry's wrist and pulled him to the side where Dudley was slowly recovering.

"Now, I'll ask again, who are you?" said the disfigured man in a low threatening tone.

"They're Sam and Dean Winchester, the guys that saved me in June!" cried out Harry, wanting to stop any unwanted violence.

"Really?"

"Yeah, so?" shot back Sam aggressively. Lupin sighed and spoke up.

"Hestia, Kingsley, put a memory charm on Dudley and take Harry and he back to the Dursleys," ordered Lupin. The black haired woman and the tall black man nodded and went over to Dudley. The rest of the group kept their wands pointing at the Winchesters.

"Lupin, what's going on?" asked Harry uneasily.

"Those two are gonna take you back." Seeing the expression of horror on Harry's face at returning back to his aunt and uncle's, he smiled, "Don't worry, we'll be in contact with you in a couple of days,"

"What's going to happen to Sam and Dean and how did you know about the Dementors?" said Harry.

"Nothing… if they behave themselves," growled the disfigured man. Lupin chuckled.

"Moody, no need for threats. Don't worry Harry, Dumbledore want's to see them and for your last question…" said Lupin briskly.

"We were tracking them since Godric's Hollow, after they shot Dumbledore," said Moody in a low growl, glaring at the Winchesters.

"What!" exclaimed Harry, "They shot Dumbledore?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other awkwardly and said in unison, "Would it help if we said we were sorry?"

"You nearly killed the greatest wizard alive!" exclaimed Harry.

"Well, he isn't that great if he couldn't stop a little…" said Dean but stopped in mid track, realising that it wasn't going to help their predicament.

"That's better, bite your tongue," said Moody, raising his wand.

"Okay, that's enough," said Lupin, and glancing over at Kingsley and Hestia who had just obliviated Dudley, he pushed Harry over to them. Harry took one last glance back at the Winchesters and found himself being led back to the Dursleys.

Harry walked with Kingsley and Hestia. Dudley was being helped along by Kingsley. Harry had never seen his cousin so out of it.

"You sure you don't need any help with him?" asked Harry to break the silence. Kingsley smiled.

"No thanks, I'm fine Mr. Potter," he said tipping Harry an enormous wink.

"It's Harry," said Harry shortly, "And how am I gonna explain this to my Aunt and Uncle?"

Hestia laughed as the walked into Privet Drive, "No problem Harry, we're going to knock on the door and say we saw you and your cousin were being mugged by strangers and we saved you,"

"Okay," said Harry slowly, "But why can't I just go with you guys now? Can't you take me to the Burrow?"

Kingsley and Hestia looked at each other and sighed, "No Harry, we can't. But don't worry, someone will be in contact with you soon,"

Harry wanted to say that wasn't fair, but it was such a childish remark. And besides they weren't abandoning him for the rest of the summer. But something still confused Harry.

"Who are you exactly, how do you know Lupin and how did you know about the Dementors?" he asked.

"Now, isn't the time," said Kingsley in his deep soothing voice.

"But –"

They had just reached the Dursley's and Hestia rang the door bell. Harry watched as her face lit up in amusement at the little jingle it emitted. The door opened to reveal Uncle Vernon. He looked from Hestia to Harry to Kingsley and then his face went white when he saw Dudley.

"What…happened?" he stammered. Harry watched as Aunt Petunia came to the door and also gazed in horror.

"Well, we were walking along and we saw these boys being attacked, we helped them but the attackers got away," said Hestia in a calm voice, "So we thought we'd help them back,"

"Dudders…was…attacked…but why does he look so…"

"I think its shock," said Kingsley, "Either way we have to be going, so…"

Uncle Vernon nodded; and knocking Harry aside he helped Dudley into the house. Aunt Petunia followed Vernon and Dudley down the hall and into the lounge room. Harry sighed and said goodbye to the two wizards.

"Thanks,"

"No problem, Harry. Someone will be in contact with you soon," said Hestia. Harry watched as they walked away. He blinked and they were gone. He shut the door and made a dash for the stairs.

"BOY!" yelled Vernon's voice from the lounge room. Harry stopped at the stairs and turned his heel. He walked into the lounge and watched a white faced Petunia trying to help Dudley. It then occurred to him, what worst memories had Dudley been forced to relive whilst in the Dementors presence. He looked at his shaking and scared cousin, and actually felt sorry for the boy that had made his life a living hell since he had arrived at the Dursley's fourteen years ago.

"Is it true you were mugged?" interrogated Vernon suspiciously.

"Yes,"

"Then how come Dudders can't seem to remember a thing, and why is he shaking like that and you're not?"

"Ahhhh," began Harry trying to think up a brilliant lie, "Well… maybe it's just shock…. And, I dunno, those attackers hit him pretty hard on the head with that cricket bat so that could be it,"

Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed and he said, "That had better be the case, boy, now go to your room,"

Harry obeyed silently, grateful for the privacy of his room. He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to organise his thoughts. He had just been attacked by Dementors, and once again saved by Sam and Dean. How did they keep on turning up just when he really needed help? And who were all those people with Lupin? He recognised Moody, since it was only last year that he had been Harry's teacher… well, actually an impostor , but still…but the others, he had no idea. And who had told them about the Dementors?

A thousand theories seemed to race through Harry's mind, each as unlikely as the next. Why couldn't he just have a normal life? Wake up, eat breakfast, hang out with friends, none of this Dark Lord, endless battles crap. What he really wanted was his parents.

A single tear rolled down Harry's face. He wiped it away and went over to his desk. He wrote a quick letter on three different pieces of parchment.

_I've just been attacked by Dementors. The Winchesters (guys that saved me in June) showed up. Then Lupin, Moody and a bunch of other wizards showed up and saved me. I have no idea what's going on._

He addressed these to Ron, Hermione and his godfather Sirius. He waited for his owl, Hedwig to come back from hunting. As it reached one o'clock, the snowy white owl returned with a frog in her mouth.

"These are for Ron, Hermione and Sirius, don't come back until they've written decent replies," he told her, stroking her with his finger. Hedwig hooted softly in a reliable way and accepted the letters. Harry watched sadly as she flew off into the night. Harry fell onto his bed and without undressing or removing his glasses he fell asleep.

Meanwhile Vernon looked at the piece of paper with the man's number on it. He glanced at Petunia and said, "Those men…I don't like them,"

He crumpled up the piece of paper, chucked it in the bin, thinking if he didn't reply they would never come back, ever. How very wrong was he…

* * *

"So… what happens now?" asked Sam, hoping that this couldn't get any worse. But knowing his and his brother's luck, it probably could. 

"And who you are exactly," said Dean glaring. Moody stalked up to Sam and Dean, wand raised.

"You should show more respect to your elders,"

"Bite me,"

"Lupin, Moody, Sturgis," said the violet haired witch, "We should go,"

"Cool, we'll just leave then," said Dean, taking a step towards the Impala.

"Oh, I don't think so," said Moody, pointing the wand squarely at Dean's heart, "You're coming with us,"

"Hell no," said Sam, "The last wizards we ran into tried to kill us, how do we know you won't?"

The violet hair witch chuckled, "Coz we're the good guys, and besides , if we wanted you dead then we would've left you to the Dementors,"

"She has a point," commented Dean to Sam, raising an eyebrow as if to say - look even if we make a run for it they'll get us, so let's just go along with it.

"Yeah, well okay,"

"Excellent," said Lupin, "Now if each you will grab on of our han –"

"Where are we going exactly?" asked Dean sharply.

"You'll find out soon enough Sonny Jim,"

"No old man, you'll tell us now," spat back Dean to Moody.

"Why don't yo –"

"MOODY!" yelled the violet haired women. Dean and Moody fell silent and continued to glare at each other. The women went onto say, "Honestly, you two are hopeless! You," she pointed to Dean, "we are going back to headquarters, can't tell you where because then it wouldn't be a secret then. Now Moody, grow up! It's okay for them to ask questions! Stop being such a –"

"Tonks," said Sturgis in a deep soothing voice. The violet haired women called Tonks sighed and fell silent.

"Okay, let's go then," said Lupin.

"Wait a moment, what about the Impala?"

The wizards looked amongst themselves, confused, as to what an Impala was.

"The car," suggested Sam, helpfully.

"Someone will come and put it somewhere for safe keeping," said Lupin, thoughtfully. "I assume it has all your belongings in it?"

"Yeah…," said Dean in an offhand voice.

"Lupin, we'd better go," said the sandy haired man. Lupin nodded and motioned for Moody and Tonks to each grab one of the Winchesters hands. Dean looked over at Sam, who had Tonk's hand firmly clasped in his own, and felt jealousy build up inside of him. Why did he get to hold hands with the crotchety old geezer?

"So what are we do –?" started Sam but suddenly the world seemed to jump from underneath them. They groaned and closed their eyes as they felt an extreme pressure build up and then in a mere second, they were being sucked down, into what felt like a tight rubber tube.

When the Winchesters opened their eyes, they were no longer in the alleyway but in a street, with old houses, lined up against one another.

"Wow, looks like we can take going to Disneyland off our list," said Dean dryly.

* * *

_Wow, seems like ages since I last updated. Anyway I hope you all enjoy this chapter and all that jazz. Please do review because they make me and my editor extremelley happy...Anyway have a nice day!_


	5. Wizards Are

**_The 5th exciting chapter..._**

**Chapter Five: Wizards are…**

Sam opened his eyes, to a pale cloudy sky. He sat up instantly confused. To his shock he was in the middle of an old western town, which looked abandoned. What the hell was going on? Sam rose and run his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what had happened.

The last thing he remembered was being taken to number 12 Grimmuald Place by the wizards. He shivered as he remembered the creepy old house; it reminded him strongly of another house, one that had been occupied by cannibals. And who could blame him? Strange elfish heads on the lounge room wall? Moving paintings? Talk about creepy.

He also remembered he and Dean being locked in a bedroom for the night, their bags brought up, clearly searched for weapons and after much discussion they had fallen asleep – so was he dreaming now?

Sam walked on the muddy ground over to one of the houses. He touched the step railing and was amazed at how realistic it felt. But it couldn't be real. No way, after all how could he go from stuffy old bedroom to frontier land? Maybe the wizards…but no, Tonks had told them that they were staying put until Dumbledore had spoken to them.

Sam stared around his surroundings and spotted a large well. For some reason, that well seemed to call for him. He walked up to it cautiously and stared at it. Hanging above the well was a large bell with an oak tree on it.

"I've seen that somewhere…" said Sam, scratching his head, "But where? Wait…I'm in Cold O–"

"Sam?" cooed a soft voice from behind him. Sam froze, he knew that voice, he hadn't heard it in five months. He turned around and gasped in shock. It was Ava…

Ava looked the same as ever, same gentle blue eyes and smooth brown hair. But as Sam stared at her longer, he noticed a few changes. She had a more guarded and darkened look to her, and she looked like she had lost quite a lot of weight.

"Ava…?" asked Sam, not entirely sure if what he was seeing was real.

"It's me Sam!" she said and ran up and hugged him tightly. The two friends stood there for a few minutes, Ava was clasped closely around Sam, silent tears falling down her face.

"Ava…where have you been?" asked Sam, wrapping his arms around her.

"I don't know! I got home yesterday after you went to get your brother and the next thing I –"

Sam stood back from her, looking at her, disbelief written all over his face. He stammered, "Ava, it's been five months since…"

"Oh my God! Freaking hell! Oh my God! Brodie, is he okay?"

"Ava calm down, it's okay, we'll figure this out," said Sam, boldly, "We'll get out of here, I swear to God,"

"And what's God going to do?" said Ava, sharply, almost cruelly, "I mean think about it Sam, we were obliviously placed here by the Demon –"

Sam frowned and quickly said, "Demon? Ava, we have never talked about a Demon. Ever,"

"Yeah, remember when we got that guys therapy tapes and you told me," said Ava quickly but Sam instantly saw the lie. He had never mentioned the Demon; all he had said was that they were wanted for a war, nothing more.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Sam, aggressively, taking a few steps back, fist clenched. Ava chuckled in an almost sadistic way and said softly, "Azazel's soldier,"

Suddenly young adults all in their early twenties wandered out of the buildings, surrounding him and Ava. Out of the crowd, came a man with insane, sickly, yellow eyes.

_**Number 12 Grimmuald Place, London, England**_

Dean Winchester woke up in a dark room. He opened his eyes and sat up, trying to remember where he was. He stared at an empty painting for a few moments and then to his shock a man walked into it.

"Damn wizards," he muttered, shaking his head. He got up and banged on the door, needing to take a leak.

"C'mon!" he yawned, "What does it take to get a bit of frigging service around here?"

The door suddenly opened to reveal a twenty something brunette woman, who wore long black robes. Dean blinked in shock; he had seen this girl somewhere before, but where? Sometimes never committing to a relationship had its problems.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" asked Dean, slowly. The woman looked at Dean, confused and then chuckled, "Dude, I'm Tonks,"

"What!" said Dean. Tonks chuckled and then watched, to Dean's horror, as Tonks began to change back into the violet haired woman with dark twinkling eyes that he had met the previous night. She was a damn shape shifter!

"You bitch," he swore stepping back raising his fists.

"What the hell did you just say?" said Tonks sharply, eye narrowing by the moment.

"You are a bitch!" replied Dean, "A frigging ,freaking freak,"

Tonks glared at Dean and whipped out her wand and said furiously, "Why you little ungrateful bast –"

"What's going on here?" came Lupin's voice from down the hall. Lupin walked into sight and looked between Dean and Tonks, confused.

"He is being a complete and utter jerk," said Tonks and as she did sparks erupted from the end of her wand.

"Tonks, put the wand down," said Lupin in a tired voice, "And what's with the attitude problem, Dean?"

Dean looked between the two wizards and said simply, "What are you, my mother?" After a further look from Lupin, Dean elaborated, "I don't like shape shifters."

"Shape shifter?" Tonks looked confused and then it hit her, "I'm not a shape shifter, well I am… ahhh…why don't you like them?"

"I don't know, let's see," said Dean in mock concentration, "First one I met, changed into me, and then framed me for murder, and then the second one tried to rob a bank and ended up framing Sam and I for that too,"

"Fair point," said Tonks sadly, "Jeez, you've had bad luck,"

"You think?"

"Listen Dean, Tonks isn't like that. And I'm guessing from your accent that the Metamo –" Lupin broke off at the look of confusion on Dean's face and said, "I mean shape shifters that you've come across are Muggles,"

"What? I thought only wizards could be…" interrupted Tonks, confused.

"No, Muggles can also possess the ability, but due to their lack of magic the condition makes them unstable, damn American ministry, absolutely hopeless at dealing with matters like that,"

"Okay," said Dean slowly, unsure of what Lupin meant about American ministry, "So…. pretty much, Tonks isn't a murdering bitch?"

"You heard him," said Tonks in a satisfied tone. Dean ran it through his head and decided to give Tonks a chance – after all, hadn't Madison and even that vampire proven that not all Supernatural beings are evil?

"Okay I'm sorry,"

"Apology accepted," shrugged Tonks. Lupin breathed in relief and wandered back down the corridor. Sam and Dean stared at each other for a few minutes, silence seeping into them like a puddle of water and a sponge.

"So, why did you need me?" asked Tonks, changing back into the brunette. Dean, blinked, and said slowly, "Oh yeah, I need to pee, like _now_,"

"Ava," muttered Sam, from behind Dean. Dean turned and saw Sam, asleep, face contorted in pain, and sweat glands working at full capacity, muttering out words as if he was talking to someone.

"Who's Ava?" asked Tonks, but Dean ignored her, even ignored his full bladder, and dived forward to Dean, alarm bells going off in his head.

As Dean bent beside his brother's bedside, and tried to wake his little brother up from the nightmare or vision he was experiencing. He guessed it was a vision, since wasn't Ava one of the Demon's soldiers?

Dean shook his brother, trying to wake him up and said, "Tonks, water!"

Tonks whipped out her wand, pushed Dean aside, muttered a little spell to Dean's horror, and suddenly a stream of water burst from the end of Tonks' wand and onto Sam's face. As the water drenched Sam, he snapped open his eyes. The wand stopped squirting water.

"Huh…" said Sam, slowly, taking in the scene.

"You okay, little brother?"

Sam looked at Dean, sideways and murmured, "Yeah, except for the fact I just woke up with some witch squirting water on me, but otherwise fine,"

"I mean the –" Dean broke off at Sam's expression. Tonks made a low whistle and rolled her eyes, "So you guys want to have your heart to heart now? Because if you do, I have to get ready for work,"

"We'll talk later, and who are you?" said Sam, jumping out of bed.

"It's Tonks," said Dean, and then at Sam's confused expression, "Shapeshifter, don't ask,"

Sam nodded, and shrugged. The Winchesters followed Tonks to the bathroom.

"You have work?" asked Dean.

"Yeah. What? Did you think because I'm a witch I just sit around a cauldron all day making potions,"

"Well…no…"

"What's your job?" asked Sam curiously.

"I'm an Auror, only became one last year" said the witch proudly, and then glancing at Sam and Dean's expressions, she quickly said, "It means I'm a dark wizard catcher. Moody used to be one too, but he's retired,"

"Moody is the guy with the creepy eyes, and looks like a dog mauled off his nose, isn't he?" said Dean. She nodded.

"Well, come on," she said, gesturing for them to follow her.

"So what's with the name?" said Dean without meaning too, as they followed Tonks. Tonks looked long and hard at Dean.

"Its better then my real name,"

"What's your real name?"

"Nymphadora,"

"Yeah, Tonks is better," smirked Dean.

"Damn straight."

After Sam and Dean showered and went to the bathroom, Tonks led the Winchesters down to the basement. It turned out to the kitchen, quite a large one at that. It slightly reminded Sam of a medieval kitchen from History class, though there were some modifications, like a toaster, a fridge, and a few other kitchen appliances.

Around the kitchen table sat seven people. Five of them were all red heads, one of them being a plumpish woman, two of them, boys, looked like twins who were about seventeen years old, a tall boy with a long nose who looked about Harry's age, and the last one a girl with shoulder length flaming red hair. There were two other people, a man with long black hair and a girl with bushy brown hair.

The entire group turned to stare at the Winchesters as they entered the room.

"Everyone, this is Sam and Dean Winchester, the guys that saved Harry in June," Tonks said, "Sam? Dean?" they both nodded, "This is Sirius Black, Harry's godfather," the black haired man raised his hand, "Hermione Granger," the girl with bushy brown hair smiled, "Mrs. Weasley," the red headed women, "Fred and George Weasley," the two red haired twins, "Ron Weasley," the tall boy raised his hand, "and Ginny Weasley," the red headed girl smiled, "Okay, so everyone got that?"

"Yeah, Tonks," said Fred …or was it George?

"You two must be famished," said the red headed woman, and she began cooking the Winchesters bacon and eggs with magic. She turned to the children and said, "The rest of you, cleaning,"

The children all rose, and started to grumble but immediately stopped after a furious glare from the woman. The woman finished cooking breakfast, placed it in front of Sam and Dean, and she too then left.

"Okay…" said Dean slowly. The man called Sirius, chuckled.

"She doesn't trust you,"

"Why?" asked Sam.

"Well considering you shot Dumbledore…I can kind of see her point," he smiled. Dean's face grew red.

"Don't worry about it, Dumbledore understands," said Tonks, casually, "Anyway see you two later. See you cuz," she added to Sirius.

"See you Nymphadora,"

Tonks rolled her eyes and left the kitchen. Sirius looked at the Winchesters straight in the eye and said, "So, how did two Muggles get wrapped up in this business?"

"Firstly don't call me a Muggle," said Dean.

"Why not?"

"Makes me feel like a frigging monkey,"

Sirius chuckled and nodded, "I'll keep that in mind. So back to my question, how come?"

"Bad luck really," supplied Sam, "We were sorta…well it's a long story,"

"I have plenty of time," shrugged Sirius.

"Don't you have work?"

"Nope, no, I don't work. Period," said Sirius, bitterness evident in his voice.

"How come?" asked Dean.

"Well, if you really must know, I'm wanted for a crime I didn't commit, though, hell, I wish I had committed it,"

"What?" questioned Sam.

"See when James and Lily were still alive…..you do know who they were, right?" asked Sirius quickly; Sam and Dean nodded, and Sirius continued, "I was their friend, best man at their wedding. Anyway this was when Voldemort was at large, and we heard that the Potters were in danger, Harry in particular. They hid, but one of our other 'friends', Wormtail as he goes by now, sold them out to Voldemort. So after Voldemort killed the Potters, I tracked down Wormtail, but the little rat got the better off me and got away,"

"So you got saddled with the blame?" said Sam, sadly. Sirius nodded, glumly.

"Tough break," commented Dean.

"If you can call it that," shrugged Sirius.

"So I assume you broke out of prison?"

"In one, Dean,"

"Man, can we relate to you,"

"In what way?"

"Back home, in America" started Dean, a small smile playing on his lips, "we get the blame for all this stuff, which well, we do, but it's all in the name of good. Anyway, so twice we've met shapeshifters –"

"You do know about Tonks?" asked Sirius, concerned.

"Yeah," said Dean, "Found out this morning. So these shapeshifters changed into me, well one did, the other didn't…"

"Long story, short, we got the blame for their crimes," interrupted Sam.

"That sucks," grinned Sirius, "So how did you get involved with these out of control shapeshifters? I'm assuming from your current circumstances that it isn't just really bad luck?"

"We were brought up around that kind of thing," said Sam, shortly.

"Thing?" questioned Sirius, raising an eyebrow.

"We hunt," said Dean.

"What?"

"Ghosts, demons, vampires, anything supernatural that's hurting people,"

Sirius snorted and said dryly, "What the hell is wrong with your ministry? So you hunt? Well, let me give you some advice. You see anything odd, don't attack,"

"We'll keep that in mind," said Sam. Suddenly the kitchen door opened and Lupin wandered into the room, a thick newspaper clasped in his hand, his face bearing a worried expression.

"What's wrong, Moony?" asked Sirius quickly.

"Charity Burbage was killed in her home, yesterday,"

"Isn't that the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts?" mused Sirius.

"Muggle Studies? Hogwarts?" asked Sam.

"Subject that is taught at wizard school," said Lupin, briefly, ignoring Sam and Dean's stunned look, "And yes, that was Charity's job,"

"Damn," said Sirius, "I remember her at school, she was so nice…. bit of a nerd, but nice,"

Lupin nodded, sadly, "Yeah…I never thought that Charity…"

"So who do they think did it?"

"Ministry isn't commenting," said Lupin and then turned to the Winchesters, "Dumbledore is coming over around lunch, so you two will be stuck in here most certainly until further notice,"

"It's like being in prison again," grumbled Sam.

"I don't know Sammy; at least we don't have that dick of an FBI agent here,"

"Suppose so…"

"Well, if it'll help, I have a job for you," said Sirius, brightly, "You done eating?" the Winchesters nodded. "Good, follow me,"

The Winchesters followed Sirius out of the kitchen, and up into the dark and creepy hallway. They reached the end of the corridor and were facing a large portrait of a sleeping old woman with long black hair.

"Sam, Dean?" whispered Sirius, "Meet my mother, Walburga,"

"What?" said Dean, loudly. Sirius stood on his foot, and Dean continued in a whisper, "Are you saying this is your house?"

"Yes, unfortunately," whispered back Sirius, "Anyway, I want this painting taken down, but it's got a Permanent Sticking charm on the back off it, so I can't move it. I was wondering, since you must have some knowledge on magic things, that maybe you two could suggest a fresh idea,"

Sam and Dean looked at each other and nodded. They quickly examined the painting, whilst an amused Lupin and Sirius watched on.

"Five Sickles that Dean wakes her up?" suggested Sirius in a whisper. Lupin looked at his friend and nodded, shaking hands with the escaped convict.

Ten seconds later, Dean, being the one that touched everything, placed his hand on the painting's frame. The old women's eyes snapped open and narrowed. The next second she opened her mouth and screamed, "FILTHY MUDBLOODS DESTROYING MY HOME! BLOOD TRAITORS ALL OF THEM! HOW DARE THEY –"

Sam and Dean leapt back in shock, whilst the two wizards roared in laughter. They rushed forward, whilst the painting continued to screech and scream. They whipped out their wands and stunned the portrait with a quick flash of red light. When calm was restored, Dean said, "You knew that was going to happen!"

"Obviously."

* * *

It's general knowledge that Winchesters were stubborn and the wizards were just starting to realize that. Sam and Dean, for the rest of the morning tried numerous attempts to rip down the portrait of Sirius' mother, but to no avail. Sirius watched on amused (and also retrieved the various items the brother needed) by the hunters attempts, though privately thinking that they actually had some pretty good theories.

"Maybe we could just blow it up," suggested Dean.

"And bring down the house?" asked Sam, raising an eyebrow, "Though, might work…Sirius you mind if we blow up part of your house?"

"Nope, go for it," said Sirius, cheerfully. Suddenly the old grandfather clock upstairs chimed, marking midday. The front door suddenly sprung open, revealing an elderly silver haired man, who was wearing red robes with a pointed wizard's hat on his head.

"Boys, meet Albus Dumbledore," introduced Sirius, rather bitterly. Dumbledore proceeded forward to the Winchesters and Sirius.

"Hello Sirius," said Dumbledore with a small bow of his head, "And hello Sam and Dean,"

"Hey, sorry about…yeah…well…" started Dean awkwardly.

"The fault was mine," said Dumbledore.

"So you guys want a room?" asked Sirius, grinning slyly, "The study's free and actually clean. Do you want some time together?"

"Sirius, shut up," said Dean, whilst Sam rolled his eyes. God, he was sick of gay jokes. Sirius feigned innocence and led Sam, Dean and Dumbledore to the study.

Dumbledore seated himself behind the desk, whilst the Winchesters sat across from him. It was just like being at school again, mused Sam. Though, when he thought about it, he really never did get called to the principal's office – that was more Dean's thing.

And then Dumbledore said, "Would you like a Sherbet Lemon?"

* * *

"I feel like a ruddy House elf," groaned Ron Weasley, feeling his muscles seize up, as he scrubbed the floor of the upstairs bathroom. He didn't understand how Harry could cope with this. Then again, he thought as he scrubbed the same stain he had been at for ages, he had been brought up to clean without magic, so he was used to it.

"You nearly done?" came Hermione's voice from next to him.

"Nope, you?"

"Uh uh, Ron?"

"Yeah,"

"What do you think about Sam and Dean?"

Ron sat up and stared at his best friend straight in the eye and said, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm just thinking, they're Muggles, and yet they saved Harry twice, when no one else would know. Not to mention the fact they shot Dumbledore. I mean, what do you think about them?"

"'Moione, listen I have no idea. I want to trust them," said Ron slowly, "since how bad can they be if they saved Harry? But at the same time, I don't want to – it's like…I dunno, they're dangerous, like really dangerous,"

"Yeah, I know," said Hermione, nodding, "They sort of remind me of Batman,"

"Batwho?" asked Ron, confused. Hermione rolled her eyes. Sometimes it annoyed her beyond belief at the lack of knowledge her friend had about Muggles.

* * *

"Sherbet Lemon?" coughed Sam.

"Yes, they're a Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of,"

Dean looked at Sam, in complete and utter disbelief. He turned to Dumbledore and said, "Are you high or something? What the hell?"

"Bad conversation starter?" said Dumbledore.

"No, it was genius," said Dean, sarcastically.

"Well…yes…anyway, my name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,"

"The magic school?"

"Yes,"

* * *

_**4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England**_

Harry Potter lay in his bedroom, feeling completely depressed. He hated lying in his room, staring at the ceiling for hours on end. Why hadn't Lupin contacted him? He'd said he was going to. Harry rolled over onto his side and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_**Number 12 Grimmuald Place, London, England**_

War was upon the wizarding community, that's what Dumbledore had said. And as Sam and Dean listened to the elderly wizard, they agreed, definitely.

Voldemort was one real son of a bitch. Sam thought he was right up there with Hitler. The hatred for non-magical humans, witches and wizards of muggle parenting was wrong. And the fact that now he was back, probably more powerful then ever, was a pretty terrifying thought.

Sam and Dean hadn't spoken as they listened to Dumbledore explain the situation to them. It didn't surprise them that the Ministry of Magic hadn't realised, after all when did the authorities ever get it right? Still as Dumbledore spoke, the Winchesters could tell the wizard was hiding things from them.

"So do you know how he learnt that potion to bring him back?" asked Sam.

"Sounds like pretty dark stuff," commented Dean.

"He learnt it from a demon," said Dumbledore, slowly, examining the Winchesters carefully.

"You know what type of demon?"

"Yes, his name is Azazel. Does that mean anything to you?" asked Dumbledore, unsure of the answer he would receive. The Winchesters looked behind each other.

"Nope," replied Dean, whilst Sam murmured the name under his breath.

"Crap," he swore, "Azazel, that name, Ava she said it, in my…"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed and he stared at Sam and said slowly, "I think it's best if you tell me a bit about yourselves,"

"What?" said Dean, "Sam, Azazel?"

Sam looked sideways over to Dean and said, "It's the Demon," he turned to Dumbledore and said, "We're hunters, ever since Azazel killed our mom, when I was six months old. Our dad, John, raised us to fight supernatural things. About two years ago, I started getting headaches, I started having visions,"

"You had one in the graveyard," muttered Dumbledore. Dean, sharp as a fox, heard it and said dangerously, "How did you know that?"

"It's a war, I have spies," said Dumbledore slowly, "Please continue."

Sam looked over at Dean, asking silently if he should continue or not. Dean surveyed Dumbledore for a while, and felt a need to trust him. He nodded, and Sam continued, "Anyway our dad got on Azazel's trail and went missing. Dean came to get me, to help him find dad. I said I would, but only for the weekend, since I had a law school interview on that Monday. We couldn't find him at his last known hunting spot. I went home and…"

"That yellow eyed bitch killed Sam's girlfriend," finished Dean, solemnly.

"Do you know why he targeted your family?" questioned Dumbledore.

"He wants an army, an army of psychics, and I'm one of them," said Sam, "I don't know why, but I guess it's to help Voldemort,"

"I wouldn't be too sure," said Dumbledore.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, in history, I mean magical history, over two hundred years ago, wizards and demons had a full out war. Azazel was the leader of the demonic army. Now I wasn't there, but I had a friend that fought in that war, and from what I gathered Azazel would never join forces with wizards, not unless he got something out of it. I have a feeling Azazel is merely helping Voldemort for entertainment"

"Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better," said Dean sarcastically, "So obviously the wizards won last time, otherwise I would probably never have been born, so how come?"

"This is when details get really sketchy," said Dumbledore, "No one is certain, but some people say it was the work of a mysterious man that no one can identify. It's believed that the man sent Azazel to hell,"

"Well, that's helpful," said Dean, "Obliviously that dumb ass didn't realise demons can get back out,"

"I'm afraid so," said Dumbledore, gravely.

"So what happens to us now?" asked Sam.

"I don't know. I must leave now, I'm afraid. I hope you don't mind staying here for a few more days," Dumbledore said as the Winchesters shrugged, "and then when I return we'll talk more," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat and proceeding towards the door.

"Albus?" said Sam, suddenly. Dumbledore turned to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to here about one of your staff members being killed,"

"Yes, it is a pity. She was so good at teaching Muggle Studies," said Dumbledore reaching out to open the door. As soon as the old wrinkled hand touched the doorknob, a mischievous spark seemed to glow in Dumbledore's eyes.

"You two are Muggles?"

"What do you think?" said Dean, rolling his eyes.

"So…how would you like to teach Muggle Studies at Hogwarts?"

"What!"

* * *

That night the Winchesters lay on their beds, staring at the ceiling in dead silence. Their 'little' chat with Dumbledore had lasted to around five o'clock, and after that they didn't feel like going down and getting to know the rest of the occupants of Grimmuald Place. So instead they went straight to their room. Instead of Mrs Weasley cooking them dinner, Sirius brought up a plate of sandwiches that magically refilled itself, and a strange beverage called Butterbeer.

"Sam?"

"What?"

"You know how I once said demons I get, but people are crazy?"

"Yep,"

"Well now demons I get, people are crazy, and wizards are just plain messed up,"

* * *

_Okay I will admit here and now, I am not confident on this chapter. If I do happen to put any of the characters out of character please tell me so I can improve for the next chapter. Also updates may get quicker since I'm nearly on holidays (3 more days to go!). I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please remember to review if you feel like it._


	6. Diagon Alley

**Chapter Six: Diagon Alley**

_**4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England**_

Harry James Potter lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His glasses lay on an open Potions book; scattered pieces of parchment covered the floor. His eyes were half open and he was breathing slowly.

It had been three days since Harry had been saved from the Dementors and now on the fourth day in his mini imprisonment at Privet Drive he was wondering if he was ever going to leave. How could everyone have forgotten him so quickly? Hadn't Lupin said they'd be in contact with him soon? And he still had heard no news from his 'supposed' friends…

Then again, maybe he was just being impatient, though who could blame him? Being locked in his bedroom wasn't on his 'must-do-before-I-die' list. Not that Uncle Vernon had any proof that Harry had done something to Dudley, but it didn't stop him from locking his nephew up.

A cool but rare breeze wafted through his window, as the sun began to fall into the earth. His bedroom door opened to reveal his uncle.

"We're going out," said Uncle Vernon simply.

"And…?"

Uncle Vernon blinked, confused as to why his nephew wasn't being sarcastic, elaborated, "So you are not to leave your room,"

"How can I?"

"Or steal any of our food,"

"What food?" sniggered Harry, ever since Dudley's diet two years ago the Dursley's house had been lacking in food, and the food they did have was also quickly snapped up by his cousin and uncle.

Vernon's faced reddened and he said sharply, "Just stay in here," and left.

Harry snorted, it made no difference to him if they were in the house or not. He listened intently as they left the house. He stared at his Potion's homework, wondering if he should pursue it or not. He decided not to.

_**CRASH**_

Harry's eyes snapped open and he sat up. He swung his legs off his bed, pushed on his glasses and whipped out his wand. He tiptoed over to his door and listened. His mind screamed 'burglars' but as he continued to listen, he realized no burglars would be that loud.

His door sprung open. Harry stood back, his wand raised, and slowly proceeded out of his room, a million spells, charms, curses and hexes running through his mind.

"Put your wand down, boy," called a gruff voice from down the stairs. Harry gasped; he couldn't believe he was hearing that voice.

"Moody?" he replied.

"What do you think, boy?" growled the ex-Auror.

"Play nice," laughed a female's voice. Harry ventured forward and saw a group of men and women standing at the bottom of the stairs. Harry recognized Hestia, Kingsley, Remus Lupin, Mad Eye Moody of course, and the violet haired women who now had cherry blossom pink hair.

"C'mon Harry get down here," said Lupin. Harry slipped down the stairs, and said, "You're really lucky the Dursleys are out,"

"HAH!" laughed the pink haired witch, "Hardly, I sent them some bull about winning the all England Best Kept Lawn competition. They think they're going to the award ceremony now…"

Harry smirked at that, as he imagined his Uncle's rhubarb face when he realised he'd been tricked.

"Wait a moment," said Moody, "How do we know this is the real Potter?"

Harry frowned and asked, "What?"

Moody ignored him and asked, "Does anyone have any Veritaserum?"

Lupin rolled his eyes and asked Harry, "What form does your Patronus take?"

"A stag," answered Harry slowly.

"That's him,"

* * *

_**Number 12**__** Grimmuald Place, London, England**_

Sam and Dean sat in the lounge room, surrounded by the Weasley children and Hermione Granger. They had been left in there whilst the adults were having an Order meeting. Sam was in the middle of an intense chess game with Ron, whilst Dean was discussing various prank ideas with Fred and George, and Hermione was telling Ginny about cars.

Over the last couple of days the Winchesters had immersed themselves in the wizarding world. They treated the whole situation almost like a case, trying to learn as much as they could. The wizarding world or the UK community worked much like a democracy and was very strict on the exposure of magic to the non-magical population. They worked hard to keep away supernatural creatures and ghosts, and that is why there were hardly any hunters in the UK.

Hermione quickly expressed her interest in Sam and Dean's life, and was outraged that the American ministry could be so slack that Muggles had to battle supernatural beings. The Weasleys, who had always known about the slack standards of America, were shocked themselves when they heard some of the Winchesters tales.

Sam and Dean still remained guarded about their past and didn't lightly tell Hermione and the Weasleys about their hunts. Instead they listened, they heard about Hogwarts, Quidditch (Dean couldn't wait to try flying), and various customs. A hot topic was Voldemort, about whom the adults unsuccessfully tried to keep the kids ignorant. Sam and Dean thought it as stupid; though they thought Hermione and the Weasleys should retain some innocence, it was better they were prepared for what's out there.

"I still can't believe you guys are teaching Muggle Studies," commented George.

"I would so take it," murmured Fred.

"You can't," piped up Hermione, "You can't take on any new –"

"– new subjects after your fifth year because of the whole NEWT and OWL thing, yeah we know 'Mione," said Ron, shaking his head at his friend. He turned back to the chess game and started encouraging his knight to smash Sam's bishop.

"I'm amazed Dumbledore would even hire you," smirked Fred.

"Why not? They are Muggles after all, who else? Besides a lot of people are scared by Charity's death, so it would probably be like trying to get a DADA professor," commented Ginny dryly.

"How do you know that?" asked Fred.

"Tonks,"

"That sounds right," said Dean. He had taken quite a liking to Tonks, once he had gotten over the whole shapeshifting business.

"I still don't get why you guys aren't in the meeting,"

"Simple , Ron," said Sam as examined the chessboard, "We have our own demons to fight,"

"Still…"

The lounge room door suddenly opened. An average height, green eyed, black haired boy stood in the doorway. In a flurry of movement Hermione leapt up and hugged the boy.

'Give him some air Hermione," said Ron, standing up. Hermione let go and stood back as the rest of the Weasley's greeted him.

Sam and Dean watched, they knew the kid, it was Harry Potter.

* * *

"I still don't think they should come to Hogwarts. If a demon is after them, then they could be endangering students," commented Molly Weasley, "they're sweet boys and they mean well, but…"

"Where else would they go?" shot back Sirius.

"Molly, I understand your concerns but it's the only place for them," said Dumbledore sadly, "Flamel told me that when the last war between demons and wizards occurred, no demon could enter Hogwarts because of the enchantments placed there,"

"Well, I suppose so…" said Molly. She hadn't taken a liking to the Winchesters as much as everyone else. They were orphans like Harry, so she had tried to mother them, but they were too old, too independent and frankly a bad example to her children. Sure, they did well in the world, but they also did illegal things in the process.

"I agree with Albus, these boys, even though they are Muggles, could be crucial in our survival, they know things that we don't," commented Snape sharply.

"I never thought I'd hear you defend Muggles," muttered Sirius under his breath.

* * *

"So, how did you guys know I was in trouble?" asked Harry as he sat on an old couch next to Hermione and George. Sam, Dean, Ron, Fred and Ginny sat opposite. As Harry asked this question, the rest of the wizards seemed to become instantly alert. They too wanted to hear.

Sam and Dean looked between each other and Dean said, "A little birdie told us,"

"C'mon…" said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

"Listen it's family business," said Dean sharply.

"Okay," said Harry in an offhand voice.

"Sorry," said Sam, "It's just some things…are personal,"

"Yeah, well I bet you guys know all about the Boy Who Lived crap," pointed out Harry. Sam and Dean looked at each other and seemed to have non-verbal argument between them. The wizards watched as the brother's eyes seemed to change as they argued. Suddenly Sam's eyes went all soft, almost like a puppy and Dean turned away saying, "Fine, but you have to stop with that crap,"

Sam sniggered, "I can't believe it still works,"

"I swear your Obi-wanning me," said Dean, annoyed.

"What?" queried Fred, "Obi-wanning?"

Hermione, Harry, Sam and Dean all rolled their eyes and Dean said "I swear to God, wizards are hopeless, next you'll tell me you don't know what AC/DC is,"

"AC/DC?" asked Ginny.

"You have got to be kidding –"

"Back to my question," cut in Harry. Dean continued to stare at the Weasleys in shock, whilst Sam began to speak, "When we were kids, a demon killed our mom. Our dad raised us to fight supernatural things,"

"Like Ghost Busters?"

"Yeah," said Dean with a small smile, "Except these things won't hesitate to kill you and when they do, they'll make you suffer,"

"Why did the demon originally attack?" asked Hermione. Sam looked at Hermione seriously.

"I have these abilities,"

"You're a wizard?" piped up Ron.

"No," said Sam, "I'm not like you guys and your magic, mine is random and it's only visions so –"

"You get visions?" said George in awe.

"And that's why…?"

"We knew about Harry, yeah," finished Sam.

"So, is the demon still after you?" asked Harry, thinking the Winchester's story sounded pretty similar to his own.

"Yeah, he is," said Sam, sadly.

"How do you kill a demon?" said Fred, "I never even heard of them existing…"

"You can't kill them," said Dean bitterly.

"How do you stop them then?"

"Exorcise them. Normally they have a human host body. They have a few weaknesses, like they can't enter Holy ground; they hate Holy water, can't cross salt lines but otherwise…"

"You're stuffed?" added Ron, helpfully.

"Yeah, pretty much," said Dean with a little smile. Harry leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, as Dean changed the conversation into educating the Weasleys in 'mullet' rock.

* * *

The next morning all the occupants of number 12 Grimmuald Place rose early, after a late night of questions and answers about Voldemort's plans. Sam and Dean sat in the kitchen, discussing werewolves with Lupin, who to the boys surprise revealed he was one.

"So there isn't a cure?" said Sam.

"No," replied Lupin.

"What do you do each full moon?" asked Dean, thinking about the viciousness of werewolves that he had dealt with in the past, and naturally about Madison.

"There is a potion, called Wolfsbane, it keeps me in the right mind, though it doesn't stop the transformation,"

"There's a potion? Why the hell…" said Dean. Lupin studied the Winchesters expressions and said slowly, "I'm guessing you knew a werewolf?"

"Yeah," said Sam slowly, "Madison, we tried to save her…but…"

"You couldn't? You killed…" said Lupin, "I don't understand why the American Ministry –"

"Are they meant to help non-magical people that get bitten?" said Dean, watching Sam as he said it.

"Yes, they are meant to supply a Wolfsbane potion. Well, that's the policy in the UK anyway,"

"Government always screws up," said Sam bitterly, shaking his head. Silence filled the kitchen. Sam leaned back in his chair, his thoughts fixed on Madison. He had felt so angry that there had been a chance to save her and he hadn't.

The depressing and solemn mood seem to pass as all of a sudden Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry wandered into kitchen and took seats at the table. They were all discussing Quidditch, except Hermione.

"Morning…" Fred broke off and said, "Awkward…"

Dean rolled his eyes and at that moment Molly Weasley bustled in and began to cook breakfast. She murmured something about cleaning the drawing room, to which her children all groaned.

"So, you two helping us with cleaning?" asked Ginny to the Winchesters.

"Guess so," said Dean in between mouthfuls of pancakes. The doorbell rang unexpectedly, echoing through the house. The Winchesters immediately jammed their fingers into their ears as a second later the portraits woke up. Lupin and Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the kitchen to restore calm.

"Does that happen every time?" asked Harry loudly.

"Yes, unfortunately," said George.

"It's really only Sirius' mum though," said Fred, "I wish we could just take her down,"

"Trust us, it's impossible," chorused Sam and Dean, remembering their many attempts, "Don't get your hopes up in that category,"

"We won't," replied the twins. Mrs. Weasley and Lupin reentered the room with Tonks following them. Or what Sam and Dean thought was Tonks. This day she had lime green hair that was short and spiky.

"Hey everyone," said Tonks cheerfully, "Wotcher, Harry,"

"Hi Tonks," said Harry.

"So, to what do we owe this pleasure?" asked Dean smoothly to Tonks.

"I'm taking you shopping to Diagon Alley. Dumbledore thinks it would be wise to get you robes and –"

"Robes? Like a dress?" said Dean horrified.

"No, dumbass," said Tonks, rolling her eyes, "More like cloaks…anyway we're going shopping, and I get to take you since I _fortunately_ have a day off,"

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," smirked Dean and then he turned to Sam, "I bags –"

"First shower!" cut in Sam, an evil glint in his eye, "You snooze, you loose,"

"That's not fair! I'm the oldest so –"

"I'm the tallest!"

At this comment the whole table developed into sniggers. Dean looked Sam straight in the eye and said, "Nair in your hair?"

"You wouldn't…"

"Wanna bet?" said Dean, he rose and went to go get a shower. Sam followed, glaring at his brother's back.

After the Winchesters had showered, they went outside and there parked out front was the Impala. Dean's eyes grew, his jaw dropped, as he saw his black beauty. Tonks looked at Dean, confused and then said to Sam, "I don't get it it's just a car…"

Dean heard her and retorted, "It's not just a car!"

Tonks looked at Sam and he said, "You like Firebolts, right?" remembering the broom name that Ron had mentioned.

"Course, they rock,"

"The Impala is like a Firebolt,"

"Okay…sure,"

They proceeded down to the car. Dean examined it to make sure there were no scratches or dents on it. Satisfied, he straightened up.

"So how come?"

"Well Dumbledore decided you should have it back,"

"Sweet…so where are we going shopping?" asked Dean.

"Diagon Alley…oh yeah," Tonk's reached into her jeans' pocket and pulled out a small crystal that hung on a chain. She handed to Dean and explained, "Dumbledore made this so Muggle relating charms won't affect you,"

Dean took it and hung it around his neck, grateful. As his fingers brushed against it he felt a small shock hit his body and when he placed it on him, his vision phased out for a moment, and then back again.

"Damn…"

"You okay, Dean?" asked Sam instantly. Dean nodded, rubbing his eyes.

"Should have warned you…sorry," apologised Tonks, "Ummm…"

"What?" asked Sam, an eyebrow raised.

"Can we drive to Diagon Alley, see…I've never actually been in a car before…which is really weird since my dad's a muggleborn, but I've always wanted to try it and –"

"I get it," said Dean, rolling his eyes, "But I need keys,"

Tonks passed the keys to Dean. He smiled and unlocked the car and slid into the comfortable leather seats. Sam opened the back door for Tonks and then clambered in. They did up their seatbelts (Tonks thought that was weird) and Dean gunned the engine. He sighed in relief as the car started up, just as faithful as usual. He gripped the steering wheel and pulled out.

"So, where do we go?"

Tonks gave Dean directions, and soon the Impala was off down the streets of London. They hit the main shopping district in the middle of the city, and then set upon the impossible task of finding a car park. "Tonks," said Sam, "any chance of a little magical help?"

"Rules are rules", she replied. After fifteen minutes of driving back and forth they scored a brilliant park. They got out of the car and stared around them.

"There it is," pointed out Tonks, walking forward. Sam and Dean followed her, and noticed a grubby looking pub that sat in between a large bookstore and a record store. The two brothers quickly became aware of the fact that only they and Tonks could see the pub.

"Charms?" asked Dean to Tonks. She nodded and proceeded forward. They reached the pub and slipped in.

"This is the Leaky Cauldron, famous place. Diagon Alley is just off here," muttered Tonks under her breath. Sam and Dean looked around - for a 'famous' place it looked like a cheap filthy pub you might find in a major city or a small country town. The occupants didn't improve the atmosphere, as most were smoking or drinking strange foreign objects.

"Tonks!" exclaimed a blonde haired woman from one of the corner tables. The woman stood up leaving her man behind and went forward.

"Wotcher, Bianca!" said Tonks cheerfully.

"What ya doing here? Don't you have work?"

"Day off, what about you?"

"Meeting at twelve with the boss," said Bianca, rolling her eyes, "All this business with Crouch has really piled up my work. I'm working on our presentation right now with Alec. Real bitch of a one too, and it's only about cauldron bottom thickness!"

"That sucks," said Tonks, sympathising with her friend, "Oh yeah, and these guys are Sam and Dean, friends of mine from America,"

"Hey I'm Bianca Collingwood," said Bianca greeting the Winchesters. She turned back to Tonks, "Showing them around?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, I won't keep you," said Bianca winking at her friend. She walked back to her table. Tonks rolled her eyes and walked through the pub. Sam and Dean hastened to follow her and to their confusion were dragged out into a small brick courtyard. The brothers watched as Tonks began counting bricks, confused.

The shape shifting witch whipped out her wand and began to tap some of the bricks. All of a sudden the bricks began to wiggle and to the Winchester's shock a doorway began to grow. Soon the archway stopped growing and they could see it lead onto a cobbled street which twisted and went out of sight.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," announced Tonks cheerfully, and casually walked forward, the boys following. Dean looked quickly behind and saw to his amazement the archway shrunk and vanished.

"This is just messed up," he murmured. As he walked down the street he was amazed. Here in the depths of London were shops selling cauldrons, potion ingredients, broomsticks and owls. Various people stopped and greeted Tonks, most of them being in their twenties.

"So where are we going?" inquired Sam.

"Gringotts, wizard's bank, run by goblins,"

"Goblins?!?" coughed Dean.

"Yeah, I know," shrugged Tonks. The continued on their way and soon came upon a large snowy white building which towered over the little shops. Beside its large bronze doors stood in a little bronze and red uniform a –

"And that is a goblin," said Tonks. Dean studied the goblin. It had a swarthy, clever face and a pointed beard. He noticed the goblin also had very long fingers and feet, kinda like Sam, except Sam was in proportions because of his height. The goblin bowed as they walked inside to face yet another set of doors that were silver. There was an engraving on these doors that pronounced,

_Enter stranger, but take heed,_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_May pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors,_

_For a treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned beware,_

_Of finding more then treasure there._

"You'd be mad to try and rob the place," commented Tonks as they passed through the doors. They entered a large marble hall with about a hundred other goblins who were either helping other wizards or measuring rare stones or money. Tonks made her way to a goblin that was free.

"Wotcher, Ragnok," said Tonks to a short, black haired goblin. Ragnok leaned forward and examined Tonks, Sam and Dean as if they were interesting specimens.

"Good morning to you too, Nymphadora," said Ragnok stiffly, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Tonks rummaged through her bag, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Ragnok. The goblin read it and nodded, "That all seems to be in order,"

"Great, oh and…" she pulled out a tiny little gold key, "I need to get to my vault too,"

Ragnok nodded and called upon a younger looking goblin called Grykook. Grykook led the party towards a door leading off the hall. They passed through into a narrow stone passageway with glowing torches that sloped downwards. On the floor there were little train tracks. Grykook whistled and a wooden cart came hurtling towards them.

"Is this like a rollercoaster?" asked Sam.

"Yeah," replied Tonks.

"Do you even know what one is?" smirked Dean.

"Yes, my dad took me to an amusement park when I was younger,"

"So you've been on a rollercoaster but not in a car?" said Dean in disbelief, "That is so –"

"Weird," finished Sam. The goblin, who was already in the cart, coughed loudly. Tonks, Sam and Dean got the message and climbed in, and they were off.

Dean loved it. The cart went deeper and deeper into the ground, gaining speed as they went. The only thing that worried Dean was the fact Grykook wasn't steering. Suddenly the cart stopped beside a door in the wall. They clambered out and Grykook opened up the door. Green smoke billowed out to reveal a heap of gold, silver and bronze coins.

"And this is only what I have, wait till you see the Hogwarts vault," said Tonks going forward and collecting some money.

"Is that where we're going next?"

* * *

_**Number 12 Grimmuald Place, London England.**_

"What!?!" choked Harry as he ate his sandwich. He stared at his best friend for a few moments, confused. He wasn't the only one. Hermione had gone white, Fred and George looked like the world had come to an end, but Ginny just looked merely puzzled.

"I said I'm going to take up Muggle Studies," repeated Ron.

"Why?"

"Something Sam said, about knowledge being power…and I just think it might be useful,"

"But can you even start a new subject after third year?" asked Harry.

"He can, just not after fifth," said Hermione.

"I don't get why you guys are so shocked," said Ron, "You were all talking about it earlier,"

"Yeah, but we didn't mean it," said Fred.

"It's like saying I'm going to take up ballet," finished George. They whole group smiled at this, and then felt sick as they envisioned what George had just said.

"Well, I wish you all the luck," said Hermione.

"But how do you take up another subject?" asked Harry.

"Students wishing to take up a new subject after third year must notify their Head of House a month after the end of term. This, however, only applies to students who have not completed OWLs," recited Hermione at top speed.

"Hell!" exclaimed Ron. He stood up and dashed out of the room just as Mrs. Weasley entered the drawing room. She stared at the children and then at Ron's retreating head and said suspiciously, "What's going on?"

"Ron's taking up Muggle Studies,"

* * *

_**Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley, London, England**_

Sam and Dean gaped.

Never in all their time of hunting had they seen such wealth…and they had broken into some pretty big mansions on cases. As soon as Grykook had opened the Hogwarts vault the hunters had been blinded by gold. There were columns of gold, just sitting there. It certainly made Tonks' fortune look miserly.

"Told you," said Tonks with a small smile, proceeding forward. She pulled out a leather bag and put a bit of gold in it and handed it to the Winchesters.

"I don't get it…how does the school have this much money if students don't pay fees?" asked Sam, remembering something Hermione had told him.

"Taxes,"

"That'll be right…" said Dean, shaking his head. They wandered back to the cart and started to get into it. Dean paused for a moment and then an insane grin crept onto his face.

"Grykook?"

The goblin turned and looked at Dean, nodding.

"Can this go any –"

"No, it does not go any slower," said Grykook at high speed, annoyed that yet another human was asking that question.

"I wasn't asking that," grinned Dean, "Can this go any _faster?_"

Grykook looked at Dean long and hard and shook his head, "Only one speed."

Dean sighed and hopped into the cart. The cart then whooshed off into the darkness. Soon the trio was back outside Gringotts, blinking in the strong sunlight. Tonks stood for a moment wondering where to take the Winchesters next.

"Well I guess we should get your robes first," said Tonks pointing to a shop called _Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. They wandered over to the shop and entered. Dean quickly noted that the shop seemed to contain masses of black material with colours over to the left. A witch dressed in mauve came forward and identified herself as Madame Malkin.

"And what can I do for you today?" she said sweetly.

"Two sets of work robes for each," said Tonks, "Actually, make those three sets of work robes. Also, a cloak each,"

"What colour do you want for the work set?" asked Madam Malkin to the hunters. They looked between each other and said together, "Black?"

"Excellent choice gentlemen. Come right this way," said Madame Malkin. She led them to the back and prompted Sam to stand up on a stool. Sam complied and Madam Malkin surveyed him for a few moments and then disappeared. She came back with a black robe which Sam put on.

"Good fit," she muttered, "But far too short. You remind me of Oliver Wood, he too was a difficult one, well muscled, but far too tall,"

She walked off to get some more robes. Dean smirked at his little brother and whipped out his phone.

"You are not taking a photo of this!" said Sam indignantly. Dean ignored him and flipped it open. The mischievous glint in his eye vanished.

"What's wrong with my phone? Sam, check yours," said Dean. Sam dug into his pocket and checked his. To his astonishment his phone wasn't working properly as if something was trying to interfere with the hard drive. Tonks laughed and ran her hands through her hair, amused.

"Tonks?" said Dean.

"Electronic devices don't work in magical places, e.g. Hogwarts, Diagon Alley. Too much magic,"

"Wish I had the EMF,"

"EMF?"

"Electromagnetic field meters," said Sam, "Picks up supernatural things basically,"

Tonks frowned and Madame Malkin came back. Sam removed the robe only to be fitted by yet another, this one too large but the right length. Madame Malkin didn't seem to mind as she began to pin the robe to the right shape.

A man and a teenage boy entered the shop; both had silver blonde hair and harsh grey eyes. They walked forward and the man stared in disgust at Sam and Dean, and then to Tonks. He smirked and said, "Why, hello Nymphadora,"

Tonks flipped her gaze, narrowing her eyes. She rose and said, "It's Tonks, Malfoy,"

"Surely that's no way to speak to your uncle," Malfoy smirked, "And who are these two gentlemen?"

The gaze Malfoy gave them sent shivers both down Sam and Dean's spines. Dean somehow thought he knew the guy but he couldn't figure out where from.

"I'm Dean, that's my brother Sam," said Dean stiffly, not trusting the guy for a second. There was a prolonged silence, in which Dean's harsh green eyes bored into Malfoys. The teenage boy seemed to snigger at the Winchesters, as though he thought he was better then they were. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Faith, please help Mister Malfoy," called Madame Malkin. A shop assistant came over and helped the Malfoys. Madame Malkin turned to Sam and announced, "All done,"

Sam got off the stool and removed the robes, grateful. She gestured Dean up onto the stool, whilst Faith attended to the teenager. Madame Malkin slipped a robe onto Dean. She surveyed it and said, "Good fit around the shoulders…but far too long,"

"Butch much?" muttered the teenager. Dean turned and stared at the boy. Sam forced himself to keep a straight face.

"Shut up Blondie, before I smash that pretty little face of yours," retorted Dean. He was so bloody sick on cracks about his sexuality!

"Did you just threaten my son?" growled Malfoy, his hand gripping tightly on his walking stick, voice low and deadly. Tonks rose and was about to whip out her wand but Sam held her back.

"No, of course I didn't, and might I say I'm just shaking in my boots right now," said Dean sarcastically.

"Think you're really funny?" sneered the boy.

"I think I'm adorable," smirked Dean, "And by the way Malfoy, if I was to threaten your son, I'd say something like…I swear to God I will kill you, send you to hell, and then haunt your sorry ass for the rest of your life. And yes, that was a threat,"

"And I'm so terrified," commented Malfoy dryly.

"You should be, the last people that messed with him ended up dead," said Sam with a small grin.

"Yeah except they were already dead…" said Dean slowly.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" cried out Madame Malkin, "Enough please. Now you two," she addressed the Winchesters, "are done. What colour cloak would you like?"

"They'll take black," said Tonks, "Let's go guys,"

Dean took off the robe and they went and paid at the counter. Now holding two bags full of six sets of robes and two cloaks they left the shop.

* * *

_wow, sorry for the late update but i was busy rebuilding my sociol life...sigh..._

_Anyway I hope you all enjoy this chpater and if its not to much to ask tell me your thoughts! Thanks for reading and I hope you all liked it!_


	7. From Hunter to Teacher Part 1

**Chapter Seven: From Hunter to Teacher…And No This Is Not A Joke!**

_**Number 12 Grimmuald Place, London, England**_

Two days had passed since the Winchesters had gone to Diagon Alley.

Sam stood in his room, trying hard to find one of his many flannel shirts. He stared blankly at the mouldy wall, his mind running over all the places it could be. Suddenly he heard soft footsteps approaching. He turned his head sharply to see Dean, strolling into the room, a pair of freshly laundered jeans in his hand.

"Nearly finished packing?"

"Yeah, just need to find my shirt," said Sam, softly, "You haven't seen it, have you?"

"The red flannel one?"

"Yeah,"

"I think Ron's wearing it,"

Sam sighed and left the room, in search of the young Weasley. He wandered through the house, and finally found Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Harry in the kitchen, munching on chocolate chip cookies.

"Want some cookies?" asked Ginny as Sam entered.

"Nah," said Sam and then to Ron, "Dude, I need my shirt back,"

Ron placed down his cookie and pulled off the shirt, to reveal a black AC/DC shirt that Dean had got him.

"Here you go mate," said Ron, handing it to Sam.

"So when are you leaving for Hogwarts?" asked Hermione.

"This afternoon, if McGonagall turns up, that is," said Sam, slightly sad that he was leaving the Order Headquarters. Sure the actual dwelling was a fine rival for all those creepy dilapidated houses that he and Dean went into to vanquish evil, but that wasn't it. He'd miss Hermione's know-it-all attitude, Ginny's sarcastic and confident manner, Ron's catchphrase 'Bloody hell' which could rival Dean's 'son of a bitch', Fred and George's insane yet intelligent get quick rich schemes and Harry's fascination with defeating evil.

"Well better get back to packing," said Sam, exiting the kitchen. He was in the hall, when Tonks called his name.

"Yeah Tonks?"

"Do you know where Dean is?"

"Packing, why?"

"Nothing,"

Sam raised an eyebrow and continued up the stairs, to his room. As he entered he said to Dean, "What did happen last night again?"

"What do you mean? I went to a pub with Tonks," shrugged Dean, "You haven't seen my razor anywhere?"

"Tonks' was just looking for you," said Sam, sliding onto his bed.

"Do you know why?"

"You tell me," replied Sam, and when Dean didn't answer, Sam went on to say, "What time did you get home again last night?"

"Shut up Sam," said Dean, "and don't say anything more, since we all know about Madison,"

"You think she remembers?"

"Oh she does…" said Dean slowly. Sam sighed, wondering what to say. After all Dean was renowned for his one night stands, so he must of done something really dumb to be acting like this. Better not ask, he decided as he zipped up his bag.

"Sam? Dean?" came Sirius' voice. The wanted convict entered the room, "McGonagall's here."

The Winchester's nodded, hoisted their bags and followed Sirius to the front. There stood, looking most odd, in normal clothing, a thin but tall woman, whose black hair was tied up in a tight bun. One look at her, screamed "STRICT!"

"Hello Sam and Dean," she said, "I'm Minerva,"

She seemed to survey the boys, and Sam watched as her eyes lingered in distaste at their frayed jeans and scruffy boots. She reminded Sam, horribly, of his grade three teacher that had on several occasions made him and his entire class cry.

Sam and Dean shared a look between each other, and then shook hands with her. She said briskly, "Now, your vehicle, does it have an anti-magic charm on it?"

"Yeah," said Dean, "Arthur put one on yesterday,"

"Excellent, then I presume we can go?"

"Yeah sure," said Sam. The trio were about to leave the house, when the entire occupants of Grimmuald place seem to appear out of thin air. They began to say their farewells. Sam glanced over at Dean, a small smile playing on his lips. He heard the words ushered between his brother and Tonks, 'sorry' 'yesterday' and 'it's okay,'.

"See you at school," said Harry. Sam nodded and the Winchesters proceeded to leave, but not before Dean pecked Tonks goodbye. Sam raised an eyebrow and they went outside to the Impala. They put their bags into the boot.

"Do you wan to sit in the front?" asked Sam politely.

"Yes, if it isn't a problem," said McGonagall. The trio got into the Impala, but not before Sam muttered to Dean, "So, is it official,"

"Shut up, bitch,"

"Jerk,"

Dean gunned the engine and the engine roared to life. Soon they were off, through the streets of London. McGonagall gave Dean instructions and also deepened the brothers knowledge of the magical world. Sam actually liked McGonagall, since after you got past her strict exterior she seemed to mellow.

After the Impala passed into Scotland, they came across a dark ancient forest. They drove down a silent dirt road, stopping occasionally to move logs that had fallen across the road. As they drove deeper and deeper, McGonagall said, "This is the Forbidden Forest,"

"Great name," muttered Dean. They continued to drive and soon exited what seemed like a never ending parade of trees. They drove past a small, quiet village.

"Is this Hogsmeade?" asked Sam, remembering that George had mentioned it.

"Yes, and coming up is the train station where the Hogwarts Express comes through,"

They passed an ancient looking train station and continued up a small hill. The engine started to stutter a bit as it entered a zone full of magic but resumed normally as the anti-magic spell took control. Sam looked out the window to see a massive stone castle looming into view. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.

They passed through a massive black gate and onto sloping green lawns. They passed a massive pitch which Sam guessed was the _famous_ Quidditch pitch that the boys and Ginny had talked about non stop. They pulled up in front of the castle's front doors. They got out and grabbed their belongings, taking a moment to stare at the scenery.

McGonagall led them into the castle. As they entered the Entrance Hall, Dean muttered, "Damn."

They walked past the marble stairs and down a corridor filled with suits of armour. They stopped in front of a door that was guarded by two menacing gargoyles.

"And what do you want?" they leered. McGonagall rolled her eyes and said, "I don't want anymore trouble from you two. This is Sam and Dean, please respect them,"

"And if we don't?"

"We're going to blow you up," said Dean dangerously. Sam continued to say, "We're serious,"

With the gargoyles scared, they entered a large room, with squishy arm chairs, a large wardrobe, a small kitchenette and a long table.

"This is the staff room," said McGonagall, she led them to a small corridor that ran off it and down it. She stopped in front of a door, handed the Winchesters a pair of keys and said, "Here is your room, if you want lodgings in another part of the castle, don't hesitate to ask,"

"What do most staff do?" asked Sam. McGonagall eyed the Winchesters and said, "Stay here, however the Divination teacher lives in North Tower,"

"Divination?"

"Don't get your hopes up if you want your future read," snorted McGonagall, a small smile playing on her lips.

"So no Missouri?" said Sam, more to himself then McGonagall.

"Missouri Mosley?" said McGonagall.

"Yeah," said Dean, cocking an eyebrow, "Do you know her?"

"She's a world famous Seer," shrugged McGonagall, "Very powerful, graduated from the Salem Institute of Magic with full marks,"

"Missouri's a witch?" said Sam in amazement.

"Doesn't really surprise me," said Dean.

"So you've conversed with Missouri Mosley I suppose,"

"Yeah, she helped us get rid of a poltergeist," shrugged Dean. McGonagall stared at Dean for a moment and proceeded to say, "Well I'll leave you to settle in; I'll come back in about a hour and give you a tour,"

"Okay," said Sam. She left them. They went into their room, smiles spreading on their faces. It was a large room, complete with two couches, desks, ensuite, and two king sized beds.

"Damn, I could get used to this,"

* * *

_**Winchester's Room, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

They had been there for three days.

The Winchesters slept soundly in their beds. Sam was flat on his back, face calm and relaxed, whilst Dean slept in a little ball, his hand touching the hilt of his knife that lay under his pillow.

Suddenly, there was a rap on the door. Sam jolted awake, whilst Dean continued to sleep soundly. The younger Winchester opened the door, to a fully dressed Minerva McGonagall. The witch's eyes widened a bit, as Sam stood in only boxers. Sam blushed slightly and said quickly, "So what do you want Minerva?"

"There will be a full staff meeting at eleven, and also other members of staff are arriving today,"

"Okay, thanks,"

Sam closed the door, checked the time, which was ten thirty, and went to his wardrobe. He pulled out a pair of jeans, a shirt and a pair of black robes. He also grabbed a gun and his athame. They had decided to be armed at all times just in case.

"What did she want?" asked Dean, groggily from his bed.

"Staff meeting at eleven,"

Dean nodded and clambered out of bed. Soon both Winchesters were dressed and had breakfasted. Dean glanced at the clock and said they should go. The two brothers left their room and went into the staff room, which was filling up. McGonagall went over to them and began to introduce them.

"This is Septima Vector who teaches Arithmancy, Filius Flitwick who does Charmes, Wilhemina Grubbly-Plank, Care of Magical Creatures, Pomona Sprout she does Herbology, Argus Filch, caretaker, Poppy Pomfrey, nurse, Rolanda Hooch she teaches flying, Aurora Sinistra, astronomy, and Irma Pince who is the librarian. Serverus Snape teaches Potions and Sybil Trelawney, she is the Divinations teacher, who are both yet to arrive," said McGonagall, "Everyone, this is Sam and Dean Winchester, who are replacing Charity,"

"Hi," chorused Sam and Dean.

"So you two are new? So am I," said Grubbly-Plank cheerfully. Sam and Dean nodded, whilst Dean made the quick mental note that most of the staff members were witches besides Filch, who looked like a dirty creep, and Flitwick, who Dean thought looked like munchkin for the Wizard of Oz, well at least the same height.

The staff room door opened, and a tall greasy black haired, hooked nose man walked in. Dean immediately knew this must be Serverus Snape and all he could say was, "I didn't know Hans Gruber had come back to life,"

"What?" asked Sam, and the room was filled with silence.

"Hans Gruber? Jesus Christ, like none of you haven't seen Die Hard,"

"Oh yeah, Alan Rickman," said Sam with a small grin.

"Alan Rickman, isn't he in Love Actually?" said Sprout and at everyone's stares, "My parents are Muggles,"

"I fail to understand," said Snape dryly.

"Alan Rickman is a Muggle actor who played a man called Hans Gruber in a movie where the character died at the end- you look like him," said Dean, rolling his eyes. The staff room door opened again and a women wrapped in many shawls, who wore thick glasses that made her eyes seem ten times larger, entered.

"Hello," she said in a soft misty voice. She looked at the Winchesters and said, "And who are these two?"

"The new Muggle Studies professors," said Vector.

"But surely you knew that?" scorned McGonagall.

"Of course!" huffed Trelawney, "But I try not to impose the Inner Eye on –"

"Yes, yes," said McGonagall quickly, whilst some of the staff sniggered a bit. Sam and Dean looked at each other, smirking, believing what McGonagall had said about Trelawney being no Missouri.

The staff room door opened and yet another witch entered the room. This one was short, and squat, her face a bit like a toads. She was dressed in a horrible pink outfit and wore a sickly sweet smile.

"Everyone this is Dolores Umbridge, the new DADA teacher," said McGonagall coolly.

* * *

_**Great Hall, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

The boys sat at the Staff Table in the Great Hall on the first of September, not sure if to feel nervous, or excited. In a few minutes, they would finally meet the student body. They both knew from, the other staff telling them, that they would be immediately judged.

Dean fingered his black robe, wishing that he had his faithful leather jacket. He looked at Sam, who was muttering Latin under his breath. Dean said quietly, "Nervous?"

"Not really…just…well…never thought this would actually happen. Seems so unrealistic, demons and ghosts are one thing, but a wizard's school?"

"Yeah, kind of terrifying," said Dean, nodding, "Got your gun?"

"Yeah, course," snorted Sam, and the doors to the Great Hall opened. The Winchester's watched as a stream of students walked in, all talking and laughing about their summer break. The students began to separate into their four respective houses. Dean saw Sam, fidget and almost felt a bit like puking when a couple of Hufflepuff girls who looked about twelve began pointing at the Winchesters, and from what Dean could see, they weren't saying 'they should be great teachers'.

As Dean surveyed the students, he picked out Draco Malfoy's hateful gray eyes, staring at him and Sam. He also saw Hermione who sat with Ron and Harry, all in an intense discussion, whilst Ginny sat with a bunch of her friends further up the table. Once again he noticed that Ginny's friends were providing he and Sam with some unwanted attention. Fred and George sat in the middle of the Gryffindor table, with their friends, making crude jokes.

The doors closed again, and Filch the caretaker came out and placed down an old stool, and on it a well worn wizard's hat that looked like it could've been Gandalf's from Fellowship of the Ring. The hat was placed in front of the Headmaster's seat, in wide view of everyone.

In a manner of minutes, the Great Hall's doors opened again. McGonagall, looking as stern as ever, entered, followed by a legion of eleven year olds. Dean noticed each one of them, save a few, looked at the Sorting Hat like it was a bomb waiting to go off. Dean couldn't blame them; god knows what these wizard's can cook up.

Suddenly the Sorting Hat opened its concealed mouth and began to chant,

"_In times of old, when I was new,  
And Hogwarts barely started,  
The founders of our noble school  
Thought never to be parted.  
United by a common goal,  
They had the selfsame yearning  
To make the world's best magic school  
And pass along their learning.  
"Together we will build and teach"  
The four good friends decided.  
And never did they dream that they  
Might some day be divided.  
For were there such friends anywhere  
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?  
Unless it was the second pair  
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,  
So how could it have gone so wrong?  
How could such friendships fail?  
Why, I was there, so I can tell  
The whole sad, sorry tale.  
Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those  
Whose ancestry's purest."  
Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose  
Intelligence is surest"  
Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those  
With brave deeds to their name."  
Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot  
And treat them just the same."  
These differences caused little strife  
When first they came to light.  
For each of the four founders had  
A house in which they might  
Take only those they wanted, so,  
For instance, Slytherin  
Took only pure-blood wizards  
Of great cunning just like him.  
And only those of sharpest mind  
Were taught by Ravenclaw  
While the bravest and the boldest  
Went to daring Gryffindor.  
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest  
and taught them all she knew,  
Thus, the houses and their founders  
Maintained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony  
for several happy years,  
but then discord crept among us  
feeding on our faults and fears._

_The Houses that, like pillars four  
had once held up our school  
now turned upon each other and  
divided, sought to rule.  
And for a while it seemed the school  
must meet an early end.  
what with dueling and with fighting  
and the clash of friend on friend.  
And at last there came a morning  
when old Slytherin departed  
and though the fighting then died out  
he left us quite downhearted.  
And never since the founders four  
were whittled down to three  
have the Houses been united  
as they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here  
and you all know the score:  
I sort you into Houses  
because that is what I'm for.  
But this year I'll go further,  
listen closely to my song:  
though condemned I am to split you  
still I worry that it's wrong,  
though I must fulfill my duty  
and must quarter every year  
still I wonder whether sorting  
may not bring the end I fear.  
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
the warning history shows,  
for our Hogwarts is in danger  
from external, deadly foes  
and we must unite inside her  
or we'll crumble from within  
I have told you, I have warned you...  
let the Sorting now begin."_

Dean immediately felt like cracking up in laughter, a singing hat, he'd have to tell Ash, this was priceless.

"That was interesting," said Sam softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's talking about uniting as one and all that, and yet from what we heard from the Weasley's, there is shit chance in that,"

"And I thought you were the one that prayed nightly," responded Dean, with a small grin. Sam shrugged and the two turned their attention to the Sorting ceremony. He quickly noted that the hat spent a varying time on each person. One small blonde girl for example was immediately sorted into Ravenclaw, whilst a black-haired boy sat for a few minutes, until the hat deemed him Gryffindor material. One poor kid accidentally, after being sorted, jogged off with the hat still on his auburn head.

"That kid is going to have a hard time redeeming himself," commented Sam.

"Oh well, the world needs losers," said Dean, as he recalled Ed and Harry the two 'professional' paranormal investigators, "It makes life that little bit extra brighter,"

"For us or for them?"

"Us,"

Soon the sorting was concluded. Albus rose up and said in a loud cheery voice, arms stretched wide, "Welcome newcomers, and welcome back to our old chums. I could make a speech now, but – tuck in!"

Suddenly the table's filled up with food, right before their eyes. Dean's face exploded in a grin as he quickly loaded his plate with an entire range of meat, meat and more meat. The fire whiskey was passed around the staff table. Sam and Dean chinked their glasses together.

"To a legitimate job," said Sam, quietly so Umbridge couldn't hear them. The brothers drank deeply, loving the feeling of fire running down their throats.

"Funny to think, that we don't have to do credit card scams anymore, I'm going to miss it a bit," said Dean.

"Why?"

"Well I never did get to try out the name Jensen Ackles,"

"Ackles…Jensen Ackles? Isn't he an actor?"

"Yep, always thought he looked like me,"

"Yeah right," scoffed Sam, rolling his eyes. Dean shrugged and continued to eat. Soon the plates were sparkling clean again, and both brother's jeans felt uncomfortably tight. Dean watched in slight horror when the tables refilled themselves once again, this time with deserts.

"You can't be serious?" groaned Dean, "What is this? Let's get high cholesterol or something?"

"They eat this and yet they don't do Gym? How is that fair?" said Sam, as he remembered painful Gym classes from his youth.

"What I don't get is why they ain't fat,"

Both brothers sniggered and shrugged, reaching forward and taking a slice of Sticky Date Pudding with caramel sauce. Dean spooned out some ice cream onto their plates and the Winchesters dug into the treat.

As the food disappeared, and the noise level began to creep up, Dumbledore rose, and the entire hall fell silent. All the students turned to face the Headmaster, though some looked half asleep.

"Well now that we have began to digest," Dean saw an image from Biology class flash before his eyes, making him feel sick, "this fantastic feast, I beg for your attention for the start of school term notices. Firstly, all student's should know that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits –"

"Whoever named that had no imagination," whispered Sam. Dean inclined his head in agreement.

"–and a few of our older students should remember to retain that information too," Dean noticed that Harry, Ron and Hermione all shared smirks.

"Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you for the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time that there is to be no magic in the corridors or a number of other items, all of which are on a list in Mr. Filch's office,"

"We also have three changes of staff this year. We are very pleased to welcome Professor Grubbly-Plank who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons, we also welcome, in light of Professor Burbage's unfortunate passing away, Professor Winchester and well – Professor Winchester who will be assuming the position of Muggle Studies. And last but certainly not least, we have Professor Umbridge, who is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,"

An enthusiastic applause rolled through the hall, with most of the female occupants trying to get a good glance at Sam and Dean.

Albus continued, "House Quiddich tryouts will be –"

He broke off, looking enquiringly at Umbridge. As she was exceptionally short, there was a brief moment where no one was aware on what was going on. However as she stood up, drawing herself to her fullest height and clearing her throat, 'Hem, hem,' and the whole hall realised she wanted to make a speech.

From one glance at the student body and the staff, Dean instantly pulled together the idea that this wasn't usual behaviour. Albus, however, sat down, slightly taken aback. Dean and Sam felt themselves smirking, as students also rolled their eyes in disbelief.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome,"

She smiled broadly at the students, in a way that reminded Dean of that crazy hick father that had raised his children as cannibals back in Hibbing, Minnesota. She cleared her throat again and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" she smiled, revealing very pointed teeth, "And to see such lovely little faces looking back at me.

Dean could feel or the students disgust, muttering to Sam sarcastically, "Well that's the best way to get respect,"

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

"They aren't looking forward to being your friend," said Sam, shaking his head in shock. Who the hell addresses teenagers like five year olds? This wasn't the same Umbridge they had met earlier at the staff meeting.

Umbridge cleared her throat again and spoke, this time more like a businesswomen and less like a kindergarten teacher. Sam and Dean listened intently, sharing long looks between each other. It was a boring speech and Dean felt his concentration slip a bit, as she droned on and on and on. Finally she concluded her speech.

"That was boring,"

"No understatement there," agreed Dean, "But can the government really interfere with this school? It's a private institution, right?"

"Yeah…I think so. That really raises a few questions,"

"Yeah,"

The broke off as Albus stood up to continue speaking. Soon the feast was done, the school dismissed. Sam and Dean rose quickly eager to get back to their feathery soft beds. As they tried to navigate their way through the endless crowd of students, Dean noticed Harry walking back alone, as Hermione and Ron ran around trying to organise the First Years.

"Harry!" called Sam, striding up to him.

"What did you think of the speech?" asked Harry, walking beside the Winchesters.

"Boring," said Dean.

"Do you know why Dumbledore hired a Ministry worker?"

"How do you know that?"

"Kind of obvious if you listened to the speech," shrugged Harry.

"Well no, we didn't," said Sam, "Well, we better get going to our rooms,"

The Winchesters left the crowd and headed to their room. They entered the staff room, and off into a side corridor. They walked past a few doors and entered their room, locking the door behind them. Dean proceeded into the bathroom, whilst Sam paced the spacious room. Eventually, after a bit of discussion the two brothers rolled into an endless dreamscape.

* * *

_Hey Everyone! Sorry for the late update, but I went away, and then had a Rowing Camp whoch involved eight hours of straight excercise, running, rowing and lots of other things the coaches claim is fun but really it isn't. I was also seeing friends and now I'm sick, so that doesn't help._

_Anyway enough of my rant! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I got a bit of writers block with it - but I had a buzz today so I managed to write. Oh and please do remember to review, the warm my heart!_


	8. From Hunter to Teacher Part 2

**Chapter Eight: From Hunter to Teacher - Part 2**

_**Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

Harry wandered up the staircase to his dormitory, ignoring the stares from his fellow students. Neville Longbottom followed him, sharing his holiday, as they trudged up the stairs.

"So, how do you know the Winchesters?" he asked. Harry paused and looked at Neville, "Met them on the holidays, they're American,"

"Really? Can't wait until I take their class,"

Harry frowned and said, "You take Muggle Studies? I never knew that,"

"Yeah, though I'm the only Gryffindor now, since Hermione dropped it," said Neville sadly.

"Oh, I don't think so," said Harry, a large grin spreading on his face.

"What you mean?"

"Ron's taking it,"

"What?" gasped Neville as they reached their dormitory that now held the sign 'Fifth Years'. Harry was about to answer Neville, but stopped. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, had already reached the dormitory and were in the process of decorating their wall space with posters and photographs. They had been talking in low voices, but as Harry entered they broke off abruptly. Harry wondered if they were talking about him, then whether he was paranoid.

"Hi," he said casually, moving across to his trunk and opening it.

"Hey, Harry," said Dean, who was in the middle of pulling up his pyjama pants, "Good holiday?"

"It was alright," muttered Harry, searching for his own bed wear, "Yours?"

"Yeah it was OK," chuckled Dean, "Better than Seamus' though. He was just telling me,"

"Why, what happened Seamus?" asked Neville, as he lovingly placed his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_, the stunted cactus like plant that Neville's Great Uncle Algie had given him, on his bed side table.

Seamus didn't answer immediately, he was making sure his poster of the Kenmare Kestrals Quidditch team was dead straight. Then he said, turning to face Harry, face darkened, "Me mam didn't want me to come back,"

"What?"

* * *

_**Cold Oak, South Dakota, America**_

"The Winchesters are at Hogwarts, eh?" repeated Azazel, as he spoke into a goblet full of blood, to a man on the other side of the world. He sat in a plain room on a fine leather chair, which was probably the only decent piece of furniture in Cold Oak.

"Yes. The charms surrounding the castle will –"

"- prevent me from entering the grounds? I am well aware of that," muttered Azazel in slight disgust. He couldn't deny that his war against wizards two hundred years ago had been a smart move, as now most wizardring dwellings from that period were built on a devil's trap.

"Then how will you tempt the Winchesters out? You said so yourself, you need –"

"Tom, I know. The Winchesters will come out; they will play their part, as well Potter. Don't worry," smirked Azazel, "besides my connection with Sammy should be enough to bypass Hogwart's magic,"

"I wouldn't be so sure,"

"Really? I find you're lack of faith…disturbing,"

* * *

_**Winchester's Room, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

_Dark clouds rolled above him, rumbling as they went. The earth blackened from Hell's fire, crunched beneath the Hunter's feet, as he walked. Calls and screams of strange beasts and tortured mortals, echoed across the barren plain and on a hill, stood five cloaked figures._

_Sam Winchester watched the scene before him in horror. He knew he was in a vision, but it still didn't change his feeling of disgust. Surrounding the figures stood a swarm of people, begging for their lives. Sam looked as one figure stood forward and threw off his hood._

_Sam gasped in shock. The face, though angular, almost elvish, was his face. The same messy brown bangs, though the eyes were different, hardened from battle, evil in fact. The figure, as though sensing Sam's presence, turned to face him. The figure's brown eyes turned a bright and blinding yellow and the world began to spin…_

Sam woke up in a start, sweating profusely. His eyes adjusted to darkness of the room, taking in the ornate ceiling. To his right, he could hear the soft breathing from Dean's bed. He lay there for a few minutes, contemplating what he had just seen.

He had seen the end of the world, he had seen himself. Was he really going to do that? Sam was confused- no way…that wasn't him…just the demon trying to mess with him, that had to be it. He sighed and sat up, he needed to clear his head.

Being as silent as he could, he rose and grabbed his jeans, pulling them over his boxers. His hands scaled the floor for a jumper. He found one and pulled it over his head and tiptoed out. Sam wandered into the staffroom and over to the small kitchenette. He found the jar of coffee and made himself a quick drink.

As he sat down at the table, the mug warming his hands, his sharp ears picked up the soft sound of footsteps. He turned, and to his disgust, he saw Umbridge, in a fluffy pink dressing gown, her hair in curlers.

"Why hello, Samuel!" she said in false cheery voice.

"Hi Dolores," said Sam, softly, watching her as she made herself a cup of tea. As she waited for the kettle to boil she sat opposite Sam, her brown eyes boring into his.

"So couldn't you sleep?" she said in motherly tone, which made Sam want to puke.

"Nope, you?"

"Oh I always like to have my morning cuppa!"

Sam glanced at the grandfather clock, and frowned, "…It's three in the morning-"

"-So, you and your brother are from America?" she asked quickly.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just funny that you never once attended Salem Institute of Magic, or any other magic school in the world, or even have had a job within the American Ministry. Oh and you also don't carry a wand, which I find odd," said Umbridge, slowly in a threatening way. Sam blinked, a bit shocked that she had tried to run a background check on him and Dean, though not a very successful one at that, for which Sam was relieved. He didn't need the whole 'you are a wanted criminal' can of worms opened up.

"My dad preferred home schooling," said Sam with a shrug, "As for wands? They're just pieces on wood. True magic comes from within, not from a stick,"

He drained the last of his coffee and went back to his bedroom. As he entered he kept the door slightly open, and sure enough, a second later he heard Umbridge get up and go back to her quarters.

"Morning cuppa, my ass," smirked Sam.

* * *

_**Great Hall, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

"Good luck today," said McGonagall to the Winchesters as they ate their breakfast. Sam nodded, trying to force his dry throat to swallow some toast, whilst Dean sipped his coffee slowly.

"Do you reckon we'll need it?" asked Dean, raising an eyebrow.

"Dean Winchester, let me say one thing, most of the students you'll be teaching haven't the foggiest idea about Muggles – and seeing as how I know how you react to people's lack of knowledge to basic Muggle things – well I wish you the best of luck,"

"Well that's bloody reassuring," muttered Dean.

"Just remember to show them who's boss from the start,"

"We won't have a problem with that,"

McGonagall just raised an eyebrow, a sly smile appearing on her face. At that moment the teachers began to get up and leave – so they could prepare for their first classes. Sam and Dean quickly finished their morning meal, and then rose. As they left the Great Hall, Dean could swear his ass was getting quite a few stares – and so was Sam's.

They walked up the sweeping marble staircase, making their way past various suits of armour and ghosts. The ghosts of Hogwarts had come as a huge shock to the hunters – especially Peeves the Poltergeist. Sam and Dean didn't like the idea of the imprints of the departed wandering the halls, after all nearly all the ghosts they faced were cold hearted killers. Sam, though, gave the ghosts more of a chance then Dean, who believed firmly that a salt and burn was in order.

On the subject of Peeves though, both Sam and Dean didn't like him. Besides from past assassination attempts from poltergeists, the little old man in Jester styled clothing reminded them way to much of the Trickster – though without the class. The two brothers had instantly let Peeve's know who was boss – telling him they knew a very painful way of sending him to Hell, thanks to a certain Seer.

They reached the Muggle Studies classroom. Dean opened the door and strolled into the room. To Dean's annoyance Peeves was in there writing swear words all over the black board.

"You do realise whose classroom this is, right?" barked Dean. Peeves dropped the chalk instantly, eyes widening slightly and without another peep the little man vanished through the floor.

Sam rolled his eyes at the list and went to wipe it off before their first class – the third years – came. Dean stood back and surveyed the list for a moment and then chuckled, "You have to admit it's a pretty good list,"

"You're unbelievable,"

Dean shrugged, unconcerned. Suddenly the bell rang to signal classes would start in five minutes. Sam nervously straightened his robe and sat behind the desk, feeling butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. A minute passed and soon Dean and Sam could hear the noise of students as they lined up outside the door.

The next minute crawled by and then at three minutes to nine, Dean muttered, "And then the Lord said, let all hell break loose," and he opened the classroom door to let in a swarm of thirteen year olds.

Sam hoped they were prepared, they were weren't they. After all they had gone over everything with Dumbledore the other day and he'd said everything would work out. That with a few charms here and there they could teach the students what living without magic was really like.

There were about eighteen of them – and about one third of them were girls. The girls assumed seats at the front, whilst the boys headed straight to the back row. A group of girls in the middle row were whispering intently. Dean glanced at Sam and knew instantly that his younger brother was uncomfortable at the glances he was getting from them. And Dean himself felt uncomfortable – he liked women noticing him but thirteen year olds? Kind of sick…and perverted…

The bell rang through the large magical stone castle and it was game on. Dean and Sam assumed their spots at the front of the class. Sam gave the class a sweeping, calculating glance and then took the role, taking in each and every one of his students.

"Welcome to your first Muggle Studies class," said Sam in a soft yet loud enough voice that carried through out the room, "I'm Professor Winchester and –"

"– and I'm also Professor Winchester," finished Dean, his green eyes flashing almost menacingly. One of the girls in the middle row raised her hand slowly.

"Yes?" said Dean.

"Well…if you're both called Professor Winchester, then how will you know if we are addressing one but not the other?"

"Your name?" said Sam.

"Talani Mason," said the girl, nervously.

"Well Talani, as you pointed out there are two of us – so here's the deal, I'm to be addressed as _sir_, whilst my brother is to be addressed as _professor_. Understood?" said Dean with a small shrug and the entire class murmured _'yes'_. Then he gave a little smile to Talani, "Good question by the way,"

Talani returned the smile and Dean quickly noticed as the red head next to her nudged Talani's side. Dean felt a shiver run up his spine and wished he could go back to road tripping with Sam and busting evil, rather than teaching teenagers.

Sam, noticing his brother's slight discomfort, spoke up again, "Now since there are two of us, we've decided to split the class into two. I will teach the first group about science and stuff, whilst Dean will take a more practical class,"

"What do you mean by_ practical_ class Professor?" asked an extremely short, brown haired boy in the back row.

"Well, from experience, wizards, like yourself, have no idea about how to use microwaves, computers, toasters and other Muggle appliances. Oh, and you will also learn things like how to act like a normal muggle,"

"You speak about wizards, like you aren't one – you are one aren't you?" said one blonde boy in the middle row. Sam cursed his slip of tongue but brushed it off and said quickly, "Well put it this way…ahhh –"

"James White,"

"Well, James, when I left school I spent a lot of time with Muggles, living a magic free lifestyle, so –"

"Why would you do that?" sneered a Slytherin student in the back row, "Why would you spend time with pathetic brainless monkeys?"

"Why are you even taking this class, kid?" said Dean fiercely.

"My mum's forcing me," he said bitterly, "But still, why would you?"

"I'll take it Dean," said Sam calmly, as he noticed his brother was ready to throttle the kid's neck, "Now what's your name?"

"Dave Bletchley,"

"Okay, now Dave, what makes you so different from Muggles? In fact," he addressed the entire class, "what makes you believe that you're any different to Muggles? What makes you more _special_ then Muggles?"

A very tanned girl in the first row raised her hand and Dean motioned for her to speak.

"Jasmin Dubois," she said, "Well…… magic obviously. Muggle's can't do the things that we can because they can't do magic,"

"But can they still do the stuff you can? Can they still communicate over long distances like you can?" said Dean.

"No, they don't have Floo Powder," sneered Dave.

"Are you really that idiotic?" muttered Dean under his breath. It really amazed him that some wizard's were really that …well…that retarded.

"What did you say?" growled Dave, flushing red.

"He called you an idiot, retard," spat out a brown eyed girl who was in Gryffindor.

"Shut up Weiss!"

"Make me Bletchley!"

"You two, five points each," said Sam sharply.

"But he –" started Dave, pointing at Dean. Dean flashed a cheeky smile that infuriated the boy anymore. Sam sighed, ran his hands through his hair and stared at Dean, as if to say 'you started this fight end it'.

"Don't make it worse for yourself Bletchley," said Dean, rolling his eyes but then went onto to say in a calm and collected tone, "Sorry, shouldn't of called you an idiot, after all the reason you are taking this class is to learn about Muggles,"

"I accept your apology," growled Bletchley. Dean's head screamed 'liar, you don't accept it' but he let it go. He would need to be more careful in the future.

"Now that we've gotten past that," said Sam delicately, "Muggles aren't that different from us. Muggles can actually communicate over long distances. This is called a phone," he pulled out his mobile and showed the class, "and this is what Muggles use, and personally, I prefer using this than sticking my head into a fireplace,"

And with that an interesting discussion began. The Winchesters were somewhat surprised that most of the students actually had a good basic understanding of Muggles, which helped Sam and Dean decide who would be in which group. There truly were some interesting comments made in those brief fifty minutes.

Finally, the bell rang and the class left, still deep in discussion. Sam left as well, but Dean pulled Bletchely back. The Slytherin student, stared stony faced at Dean.

"Listen Bletchely, I am actually sorry for what I said,"

"Yeah, whatever man," said Bletchely bitterly, a sad expression crossing his face. The boy went towards the door and was about to leave when Dean said, "What is it?"

"Nothing,"

"If you ever need an ear then, I'm here," shrugged Dean and he left the room, leaving it there. He knew the kid had some inner turmoil going on inside of him, but he wasn't going to make the kid tell him, after all he already had one annoying little kid who just loved to open his heart out to him.

The rest of the day passed smoothly, with the Winchesters have only one other class that day, which took place after recess, a double period with the seventh years who were getting ready to take their NEWTs at the end of the school year. This class was significantly smaller, unlike the third years, with only six students, four boys and two girls.

The seventh year class was interesting, all the students craved knowledge about Muggles , and Sam and Dean found themselves relating experiences to the class, like the first time they had driven a car, or the time they pulled a prank on a bully in high school. The students loved hearing about the driving stories and all of them, save one extremely shy boy called Jeff Fisher, wanted to go for their Muggle driving licence after they left Hogwarts – which filled Dean with pride, especially when one girl declared she wanted a '67 Chevy Impala after seeing her cousin driving one. Dean at that moment told her he drove one, and suddenly the two were off discussing muscle cars.

Then at the end of the lesson, they got down to business and discussed the expectations for the class and what course work they would be doing and then the bell rang. Dean set the homework, which was to write a thousand word essay on everything you know about Muggles.

The Winchesters left the classroom extremely satisfied and headed off to the Great Hall for another delicious meal prepared by the Hogwarts' House Elves.

Meanwhile, at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall at lunch, two third year girls sat gossiping with their friends about the new Professors. The two girls were suddenly swamped with half the house as they related the events from their Muggle Studies class.

But Nicola and Katie weren't the only ones being swamped for answers, the rest of the houses (the female half any way) were participating in the lunch time gossip with ease. Though the Slytherin table's discussion was slightly more disgust then praise and phrases like, _"oh my god! They are so hot!"_ and _"Sam is so much hotter then Dean!" _and_ "No way, Dean could kick Sam's ass any day,"_

Luckily the Winchesters were shielded from the conversation up at the staff tables though they suspected what was being said because of the many glances they were receiving from the student body.

"So how was your first class?" asked Flitwick in a squeaky little voice.

"All right," shrugged Dean, "Yours?"

"The same as ever," sighed the elderly Charms teacher, "Mind you, at least this time I didn't get accidentally whacked against the ceiling,"

"What?" coughed Sam, his eyes wide in confusion.

"The Wingardium Leviosa charm mixed with poor aim…never a good combination with first years," said Flitwick shaking his head sadly. Sam and Dean glanced at each other both thinking, what the hell was Wingardium Leviosa charm? Though they guessed it might be some kind of flying charm…weird.

"Yeah…"

"So, any classes this afternoon?"

"No," sighed Dean in relief.

"How about some poker then? After Period 4 of course since I have a class," suggested Flitwick, stroking his long white beard.

"I wouldn't play if I were you," said Professor Vector, dropping into the conversation, "Flitwick plays a hard game,"

Dean's eyes brightened at the challenge and he said, "Forty Galleons then,"

"You're on,"

The bell signalling the end of lunch chimed and the staff quickly left the hall to prepare for their next classes. Sam rolled his eyes at Dean and said, "That was cruel you've, never lost, though he could beat you," he added after a thought, "That would be the day,"

"I doubt it," shrugged Dean, "though we'll just have to wait to find out,"

Sam rolled his eyes and then followed Dean out of the Great Hall through one of the fabulous staff exits. They wandered through the never ending corridors, past numerous portraits that yelled at Sam for being a Bigfoot and Dean for being a dwarf. By the time the reached the staff room Dean was ready to set the castle on fire.

"I don't get it…why us?" muttered Sam.

"Hi Bigfoot and Dwarf," came a low amused growl. Sam and Dean glanced at the gargoyles that were guarding the staff room. Dean's green eyes flashed.

"Son of a bitch," he murmured and went into the staff room with Sam following, "Hey Sam, do you know any lore on gargoyles? You know, so we can torture them mercilessly?"

""No, none," said Sam amused, "Though I could look something up – the school library looks like it has plenty of information,"

"Mmmm…probably be a bunch of exorcism rituals in there…could even be a way to kill old Yellow eyes,"

Sam nodded in agreement. That would be the day, when the Winchesters finally got revenge on that sick bastard with yellow eyes. It was, after all, their life goal, the reason they took to the hunt.

"Anyway, better make sure I have the cash," said Dean, leaving Sam to ponder his thoughts.

Soon enough Flitwick turned up and the the poker game began, with Sam ducking out early. It wasn't as easy as Dean had thought. Flitwick was a good poker player, no kidding. Dena couldn't figure out the guy, one moment Dean was so sure he saw a break in the professor's face but in the end he ended up losing round after round after round.

It was a true battle of wits, as Sam dealt out the cards at a amazing speed. Dean's full concentration was on the game before him. Dean's hands weren't helping him win the game; it was like Flitwick had the devil's luck when it came to Full Houses, and Three of a Kind with Ace high.

"And I win," smiled Flitwick, taking away Dean's galleons as the bell rang to signal the end of the day.

"God damn it," swore Dean, shaking his head in utter disbelief. Sam shrugged and went over to the couches. Flitwick and Dean packed up the poker chips that the tiny little wizard had transfigured from odd buttons.

"Well, I suppose you've learnt your lesson when it comes to playing poker with –"

Flitwick broke off as a red faced McGonagall burst into the staff room. The transfiguration professor sat down beside Sam, who had began reading through John Winchester's journal once again. The younger hunter looked up at McGonagall and asked what the problem was.

"Potter," said McGonagall, "I mean the damn idiot spoke up in Umbridge's class,"

"Spoke up in Umbridges class?" said Flitwick, shaking his head.

"Yes, like we need this,"

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," reasoned Dean.

"She's from the Ministry!?! She could probably get him arrested or god knows what!"

"Get him to plead insanity," said Sam and at everyone's glances he continued, "Learnt it at Stanford,"

"Whatford?"

"It's a Uni –"

And once again the staff room door opened, though this time Umbridge came through the door wearing a false cheery smile complete with a hideous pink robe.

"Why, hello everyone! What are we up to?"

"Oh just having a bitch about how that outfit makes you look fat," shrugged Dean. Umbridge glared at Dean and went to her quarters.

"Well that was appropriate!"

"Whatever," said Dean, "She had it coming to her,"

"Well as true as that is…"

* * *

_Well sorry about this really late update but that thing called school got in the way...but I scratched this up for you guys and I hope you all enjoy it. But please if their are any problems with OOC or anything please tell me, I take all suggestions on bored so I can try and improve._


	9. Umbrage at Umbridge

**Author's Note:** Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Umbrage at Umbridge...**

_**Staff Quarters, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

The nerve of those two was infuriating, fumed Umbridge as she walked to her room. She had known that going into this job would be difficult, especially with Potter, that lying no-good brat; but at least he was a student – she had immediate authority over him. The Winchesters though were a completely different case...

Both were confident, smart and with a slick tongue to go with it. In Umbridge's mind, Dean was going to be the worse of the two – an older version of the dratted Weasley twins (how was Percy even related to them?). Sam was different though, he was more...dark, haunted, though Dean was not unlike his brother at times. They had a secret, a secret she needed to find out.

Of course she had resources on getting information on the Winchesters. So nothing had turned up on them in the wizarding world, but who knew about the Muggle world...the possibilities were endless. And she knew who she could go to find that info...

She entered her room, and stared into her mirror. Brown eyes stared back at her. She sighed – the Winchesters were a lost cause; Dean had made a definite statement about where his loyalties lay, and she had a theory that Sam would always stick with his sibling, no matter what...

Oh well, it didn't matter! Umbridge smiled showing wide flat white teeth...soon she would be in control...and she _couldn't _wait!

* * *

_**Great Hall, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

Sam strolled into the Great Hall the next morning, his black robe just hanging off his back, revealing a blue shirt, dark brown strands of hair hanging over his eyes. If he looked tired, it was nothing to how he felt inside. Once again he had been trapped in an abyss of nightmares, the Demon being the main star of them.

"Professor Winchester!" called a female's voice from the Gryffindor table. He flicked his gaze and saw Claire Weiss from yesterday's class with the rest of her friends. He approached them.

"Yes Claire?" he said in a half-yawn.

"You okay?" piped out Talani's voice, the dark girl, twisting her ponytail into a bun.

"Peachy..." said Sam, "So what do you want?" Claire went onto tell him, but Sam found his attention being drawn away to the other end of the table, to three familiar heads that were all bent low. _Looks like trouble,_ he thought as Harry, Hermione and Ron whispered amongst each other.

"Professor?"

Sam blinked, staring back to Claire, "Sorry...what were you saying?"

"Oh, just that I wanted to know where did you live when you weren't practising magic?"

_What? _But then Sam remembered from yesterday's class _"__when I left school I spent a lot of time with Muggles, living a magic free lifestyle, so –"_. Sam decided to tell the truth, after all it couldn't hurt, could it?

"Stanford University in America," shrugged Sam, it was a half truth, since his hunting was pretty much the equivalent to a wizard's magic school.

"How come you left?" inquired Claire, quickly.

Sam frowned, what the hell was with these girls? Though he guessed he too had been rather inquisitive when he was younger, still was... but still... "My brother needed help with work," he shrugged, "Now if you will excuse me ladies,"

They all said goodbye and he made his way over to the three conspirators. They were still hunched over what looked like a paper, muttering in low voices. He snuck up behind them, a small grin appearing on his face as the three teens failed to notice him.

"What going on here?" he asked softly. Suddenly the trio all jumped, looking up sharply but then sighing in relief as they saw it was Sam.

"Nothing, just reading the paper," said Hermione briskly. Sam smirked, as he studied her for a moment, "You can't con a con-artist Hermione. So what's the problem?"

"Just Umbridge – her classes are a joke," Ron replied.

Sam chuckled, "Bet they are,"

"Do you reckon Dumbledore knows? I really don't see how we can pass our OWL's with her as a teacher,"

"What do you mean?"

"She's not letting us do magic," growled Harry, tearing apart a piece of toast with his hands.

Hermione nodded and expanded, "It's ridiculous, I mean part of OWL is practical, how can we perform a spell perfectly in exam conditions if we've never done it before? I mean, does Dumbledore even know what's going on?"

Sam stared at Hermione for a few moments, "Yeah, he must." He briefly looked up at the staff table to see if Dumbledore was there, but instead found a pair of large brown eyes belonging to Umbridge watching him closely, "Listen, I gotta go, just stay out of trouble,"

Harry laughed hollowly, "Yeah, right, got any advice for my detention?"

"Try asking Dean," responded Sam truthfully, thinking of the amount of times his brother had gotten detentions back in their school days, "Though, just keep a level head and stay on guard."

"Thanks Sam,"

"No problem," he walked off towards the staff table and took a seat next to Flitwick who was busy making his bacon do back flips. Piling his plate with toast, scrambled eggs, bacon and pouring himself a large cup of coffee, he began to eat.

"You look like hell," came Dean's voice as the older hunter pulled up a seat beside him.

"Yeah, whatever," said Sam grinning at his brother.

"No Sam, I am _not_ kidding. This is crazy – you need sleep...maybe Dumbledore has a potion –"

"– I'm not taking any potions,"

"C'mon, it's not like it's a drug, well not an illegal one..."

"No Dean," Sam rubbed his eyes, "I'm fine, besides it's not like you need me on alert since we're not hunting,"

"And I thought you were the smart one..." muttered Dean, rolling his eyes.

"What?"

"Dark wizard on the loose, not to mention all these ghosts floating around; and what about these students?" said Dean, throwing up his arms to exaggerate his point.

"Huh?"

"Like you haven't noticed Sam. Now, I like women noticing me as much as the next guy, but ones half our age?!"

Sam chuckled softly; nodding his head in agreement, "True...well I guess it couldn't hurt..." he pushed his hair out of his face. He sighed and poured Dean a cup of coffee.

Dean nodded, and took a sip of the coffee. He sighed, placing the cup down, and mumbled something about missing the good old home brew. Sam's eyes began scanning the hall. He raised one eyebrow as he saw a tall dark girl, with long dreadlocks and an extremely determined look on her face, heading straight for Harry, like a shark tracking the smell of blood.

The girl reached Harry, and then she yelled. From what Sam could tell it was something to do with Quidditch. The girl's cheeks were flushed, and she was pointing accusingly at Harry. Sam stood up and was going to go and break it up before it escalated. However, as he rose, he noticed Professor McGonagall streak forward, green robes flapping behind her as she went.

Sam had to admire McGonagall; she inspired fear within her students with her strict appearance and attitude. Her nostrils were flaring slightly as she spoke to the girl and Harry, her voice low and direct. She then left and came up to sit next to Dean.

"What was that all about?" asked Sam.

"Quidditch – these students could start a war over the damn sport,"

"Really, how?" queried Dean.

"Potter's third year for example – numerous jinxes and curses on members of both Gryffindor and Slytherin,"

"Damn," muttered Dean, "Anything really serious?"

"No nothing Madame Pomfrey couldn't fix..." said McGonagall making herself a cup of tea. Soon the bell had rung and everyone was getting up to leave for classes. Sam and Dean slowly stood up and walked off to their classroom.

As they wandered through the corridors, Dean noticed Draco Malfoy and a bunch of older Slytherins bullying that third year from yesterday. What was his name? Oh, yeah, Dave Bletchley! He told Sam to go on ahead, saying he had something he had to do. As he got near, he heard Malfoy sneering at Dave for taking Muggle Studies. Dave was slightly flustered, trying to say he had been forced into taking it, but Dean saw right there under the pressure that Dave was lying.

Dean sighed and quickened his pace, reaching Malfoy and the group. They all froze and stared at Dean.

"What's going on here?" Dean asked in deep voice.

"Nothing, _sir_," sneered Malfoy, his cold gray eyes glinting maliciously.

"You suck at lying, you know that Malfoy?" said Dean, and then to the rest of the group, "I would advise you all in the future to not bully younger students, or any students for that matter, unless you want to lose a hell of a lot of house points,"

"Yes _sir_," chorused the group in disgust.

"Great," Dean turned to walk away and then a little smirk appeared, he turned his head and said to Malfoy, "Oh yeah, Malfoy, Saturday morning quarter to eleven, my office; don't be late,"

"What?"

Dean chuckled, "Don't think I was going to let you off that easy – I still haven't forgotten that comment you made to me in the summer."

And without another word he walked away, leaving a pink cheeked Malfoy in his wake.

* * *

Claire Weiss didn't like being a sneak, she really didn't. So when Professor Umbridge had come to her earlier on in the morning, she knew it wasn't that cow coming to give her a medal. You could sorta tell after all, the way that woman had approached her as she had entered the Great Hall that morning, that and the fact her parents had warned her against messing with Umbridge.

It had been pretty creepy when that toad had come up to her. Claire found herself instantly regretting leaving her dormitory early for breakfast. She had tried to ignore her, concentrating on the letter her penpal had sent her, but it was futile.

"_Hello Claire," Umbridge had said sweetly. Claire glanced up, careful to keep a long curtain of hair between her and Umbridge._

"_Yes Professor?"_

"_You are in Professors Winchesters Muggle Studies class, correct?"_

"_Um...yeah,"_

"_Let me guess, your mother told you to take that class?"_

_Claire nodded slowly, her mum had told her to take the class, mentioning something about how all the hot misunderstood boys end up there (Claire suspected that it had something to do with her father being the hot misunderstood boy in that class her mother had mentioned)._

"_A great woman your mother is, so nice. I hear she's up for a promotion as a Department head?"_

"_Yeah, she's really worked –"_

_Umbridge cut Claire off with a small laugh, "I know, hate to see it go to waste, but enough chit chat." she paused, watching Claire like a bird of prey, "Now, could you do me a small favour?"_

"_Ummm..."_

"_If you hear anything about the Winchesters, or know anything, could you tell me?"_

"_Why don't you just ask them yourselves Professor?"_

_Her grin widened, "You're a smart one, just like your mother..."_

_Claire swallowed, paling by the second._

"_Hey Claire!" called a voice suddenly. Claire shifted her gaze to the doorway and her jaw dropped. It was Dave Bletchley! Of all the people that had to come, it had to be him, of course._

_Dave had quickly walked over and greeted Umbridge and then sat next to Claire, asking for homework help. Claire raised an eyebrow but quickly agreed wanting any excuse to get out of this situation._

_Umbridge returned the greeting and then left the two students, not before calling back, "Remember Claire!"_

_Claire paled and nodded and then turned her attention to Dave, "What do you want?"_

"_I'm just helping," he shrugged, and then he leaned in closely, "What was that about?"_

"_She wants me to snitch on the Winchesters,"_

"_Why?" he stroked his chin, "But like you would know anything," glancing at Claire he added, "No offence,"_

"_None taken,"_

"_But seriously, better ask the Weasels or that Granger bit –"_

"_Thin ice Dave, thin ice," muttered Claire._

"_Okay Weiss," said Dave, "But still, will you?"_

_Claire shifted uncomfortably in her seat._

"_I dunno, she threatened my mum's job,"_

"_What?" gasped Dave, "What a bitch!"_

"_Why do you care if I snitch or not?" said Claire suddenly, her eyes narrowing._

"_I just... well being a snitch is the worst thing you could do..." he stood up and said softly, "I don't care, but if you do, which you should –"_

"_Huh?"_

"_Not important stuff, but little things, so then Umbridge has no need to –"_

" – _fire my mum?"_

"_Yeah," he nodded and then turned his heel to leave just as a group of fifth year Slytherins entered the Great Hall. Claire turned back to her letter._

And now she was a snitch, no shit. Claire sighed and left the Great Hall as the bell rung, praying that she could avoid Umbridge for the rest of the day. Despite her attempt, Umbridge did find her after first class.

"Hello Claire,"

"Hi," it was brief and short.

"You remember that little –"

"Yeah,"

"No need to be rude," chuckled Umbridge, a dangerous glint in her eye, "Now you were talking to Professor Winchester at breakfast today? What exactly...?"

"Just asked him about what he did when he was away from magic," said Claire, softly, hating herself as she spoke, "He mentioned a place called Stanford University in America,"

"Thank you," said Umbridge, "Your mother, would be proud,"

And then she walked off leaving Claire standing there, feeling like crap. Claire sighed, and she knew what to do. If you're going to snitch you might as well tell the person who you were snitching about, unless that person was a criminal - but the Winchesters weren't and the worst they could do was detention and docking a few points. She could live with that, she really could.

Heart racing, Claire wondered where one of her professors could be. They could be in the staff room, or in their offices, or teaching a class...Claire froze and swore loudly. She was late for History of Magic. Taking off at top speed she ran through the corridors to class.

It's not like she liked History of Magic but she really didn't want to get a detention, not that Binns would notice...he was probably already boring the class to death. He would be the perfect cure for insomnia, why take potions when a dead guy can bore you to sleep? Now that was a money making plan, smiled Claire as she ran.

_Thump_

Claire staggered slightly, and blinked in confusion as two hands grabbed her, holding her up. Looking up she saw a pair of hard green eyes, a chiselled chin, short brown hair and all she could think is _god, you are so hot..._

"Claire?"

She blinked and then gasped. It wasn't some hot older student, but Professor Winchester. Standing back and taking in a deep breath she said, "Yeah...I'm fine,"

"Okay then," shrugged Winchester, he glanced at his watch, "Playing hooky?"

"No..I...you...ahhh..." Claire stuttered, as she felt her face warm. AT that Winchester started to chuckle, and raised his hand as to silence her.

"Don't worry," He glanced down the hall and then said, "See ya around,"

As he turned his heel to walk away, Claire said quickly, "Professor I need to talk to you!"

He turned, and Claire watched as his killer smile and warmth, seem to vanish, as if he knew something bad was going to happen. Speaking softly he asked, "What about?"

The question spoke volumes, and for a second it was like he could see into her soul, as if he knew everything about her. Her face started to go red (well redder) and heat up, "Well...ummm...you see Professor Umbridge, she..."

"What did she do?"

"She was asking questions about you," said Claire blankly, not looking her teacher in the eye, "She asked me to snitch, and I sorta –"

"What did you tell her?"

"Well I found out that, well your brother went to a place called Stanford and I told her, and I'm really sorry but she was blackmailing me and..." said Claire in one breath. So far her little confession hadn't gotten any reaction from her teacher, which kind of freaked her out. What was he thinking?

"Thanks Claire,' he said shortly.

"You're not mad or...?"

"Get to class," he said briefly and then with a smile, "Listen, I'm not happy you snitched but..."

He shrugged and started to walk away, leaving Claire standing there as confused as ever. He didn't care? No way, she could tell from his eyes that he did, he really did care. Shaking herself, she walked to class, telling herself that whatever was going on wasn't her business, and her little brief as a snitch soon left her mind as she was bored to tears by Binns.

* * *

Umbridge smiled to herself, that had been easy, and now she had something she could go on. She headed to her office and immediately summoned Dawlish through the Floo Network. She liked Dawlish, he was dedicated to the Ministry, a great Auror, always ready to prove his worth to the worth to the community – the list was endless.

"Yes Ma'm," he said, his head bobbing around in the fireplace.

"I want you to find some information, on a Samuel Winchester. Specifically look in a place called Stanford University in America," ordered Umbridge.

"I've never heard –"

"I believe it's a Muggle school of some sort, just look, understand?"

"Yes Ma'am," and he vanished. Umbridge smiled smugly, this was _fun_...

* * *

The next few days passed smoothly for the Winchesters. It didn't take them long to get into the routine of the school – though both of them found themselves longing for the open road, the adrenaline rush that can only come with hunting, and their old life.

Not that they didn't enjoy teaching the kids, but could they really survive an entire year of it? Though, as Sam was quick to point out, as soon as the Voldemort issue was sorted they could head back to America, to which Dean responded that that could take forever.

They were on their guard against Umbridge ever since they had learnt that she was checking upon them. They could only imagine what would happen if she uncovered the skeletons in their closets. Their main hope was that she wouldn't find anything because of her inability to use Muggle technology which would hamper her searching, at least for a while.

One evening Sam found himself wandering the empty halls of the large ancient castle, contemplating his dreams. He had only just gotten a Dreamless potion off Snape today (he had a theory that Dumbledore may have told Snape to have one ready for him) and couldn't decide if he wanted it. Would it stop the visions? Did he really want to stop them? They were useful after all; they helped him save lives...well sorta. Staring at the potion he sighed, he wasn't going to use it. He emptied the contents onto the ground, smirking slightly as he thought about Filch cleaning it up later.

Suddenly, as he was passing the DADA area of the school, he saw Umbridge's office door swing open and Harry left the room, his left hand massaging his right, breathing slowly. Sam took a few long strides and caught up with the Boy Who Lived. Harry stopped, knowing he was being followed.

"Hey, Potter," said Sam softly, aware that Umbridge could be eavesdropping. He proceeded to walk forward, Harry following him.

"Hey, Sam, what are you doing?"

"Walking. So how was detention?" asked Sam, observing Harry's right hand. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with it, though Sam knew better.

"Fine, it's just writing lines," shrugged Harry, letting his hands hang by his side, not looking Sam in eye. Sam sighed – he knew Harry was lying to him. He observed the Boy Who Lived for a moment and soon his sharp eyes picked up red marks on the hand. He frowned.

"Harry let me see your hand," he ordered sharply. Harry slowly lifted up his hand, and Sam gasped, the kid's hand had been cut and was bleeding, the words _I must not tell lies_ etched in it. Harry shifted his feet and pulled it back down quickly. Sam's eyes narrowed and he glanced back down the hall way to where Umbridge's office was.

"Bitch," he swore, "Harry, is this what you meant by lines? Her carving words into your hand"

"I..." he said uncomfortably, "But it's the quill, when I write it uses my blood as ink...I think..."

Sam frowned. What the hell was wrong with that woman making students write with a quill that was obviously cursed? He didn't know if that was illegal in the magical world, but he guessed it was, after all, doesn't that fall under abuse? How could Dumbledore just let this happen? There was little doubt wizards were dangerous...

"When I'm through with her..." said Sam under bated breath, turning on his heel to go to her office. Harry's hand grabbed Sam's wrist, pulling him back.

"Don't! I don't want her to know she's gotten to me!" cried out Harry.

"What?"

"Seriously Sam, don't. If you say anything she'll probably find some way to get you in trouble, and when it comes down to it, it'll be her word against yours and mine," Harry desperately tried to explain. Sam froze, he was right. He already knew that Umbridge was Ministry material, hated Harry, and that she was interested in the Winchester's background. And if she did find out the truth about he and his brother, it would definitely be her word. Aggravating her would probably just fuel her desire to control Hogwarts and dig into their pasts even more.

"I get your point..." said Sam slowly, but then he froze. He couldn't just do nothing, not even to save his own skin. Umbridge shouldn't be carving sentences into one of the student's hands, that was just sick...

Sam wondered why she was doing that. If she was caught, surely she'd be in trouble? What was the point of her losing her job for the sake of torturing a couple of students? Unless she thought her victims wouldn't tell another staff member. But no one could trust that, no way she could incite that much fear, could she? Of course, Harry could be the only one, and considering it was the first week that was probably the case. But still, it was wrong, and wouldn't she get into trouble if the authorities found out? Hell, who knew how the legal system worked in the magical world.

Harry ran his left hand through his hair and sighed, "Sam, please. I'm going to have to face Voldemort one day, and if I can't face one teacher by myself then I'm stuffed,"

"Harry, I can't..." stammered Sam. He looked away, his mind racing. Max Miller came to mind, hadn't he been abused and no one had stopped it, even though people knew. And now Max was pushing up daisies because he sought revenge on the people that had done him wrong. Sam sighed, though he doubted Harry would become another Max Miller, it troubled him.

"Please Sam," pleaded Harry breaking through Sam's train of thought.

"I'll think about it," sighed Sam. Harry nodded his head in thanks, a faint smile on his lips. Sam nodded and continued back to his quarters. As he walked, Dean came to mind. Should he tell Dean about Umbridge? He decided against telling his brother, until he had some sort of understanding of the legal system, no point bringing light to something that could be a loose end and probably make Dean start a vendetta against her on behalf of the students. They had enough problems as it was.

* * *

_**Great Hall, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

The weekend had finally arrived and the Winchesters were eternally grateful, as were the rest of the student and staff body. Sam was planning to head down to Hogsmeade with Professor Flitwick and Sprout for the day and get a taste of the wizarding village and then maybe later head over to the library to try and find a solution to those god damn gargoyles, whilst Dean had a detention with Malfoy.

Dean headed down to breakfast that morning feeling rather happy with how the week had gone. As he sat down and began to eat his ear twitched as he heard McGonagall say, "Crap."

Dean looked quickly up from his coffee, and stared McGonagall in slight shock. That was one of the few words he would have expected from her, she seemed too...proper for swearing. He sighed and got up, walking over to her.

"What's the matter?" he asked quietly. McGonagall looked up and pointed indignantly at the Daily Prophet before her. Dean squinted his eyes and quickly read the tiny article. It was titled, _TRESPASS AT THE MINISTRY_. It was about a guy called Sturgis Podmore who had broken into the Ministry of Magic and had tried to break though a top security door and was now being sentenced to Azkaban prison. Dean frowned, he knew that name but from –

"He was an Order member," said McGonagall in a hushed voice.

"Crap,"

"Exactly."

Dean reread the article, shaking his head in disbelief. He could tell from McGonagall that she really had no idea what Sturgis had been doing. His mind instantly scrambled over the possibilities of a set up, like a shape shifter, or maybe even a mind control type thing - or maybe Sturgis had just really wanted to steal something.

"You have any idea what he was doing?" asked Dean quickly.

"He was on duty," said McGonagall, dabbing her eyes. Dean nodded, so he had been on duty but obviously not doing what he was supposed to be doing. Unless...

"And part of his duty was to break into the Ministry?"

"Not here Dean," said McGonagall curtly, glancing around, making sure that they weren't being overheard. Dean mentally kicked himself and gave a quick scope of the Great Hall. His eyes zeroed on Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were all bent down reading something. Dean pointed them out to his colleague and said dryly, "We're not the only ones,"

"Doesn't surprise me," chuckled McGonagall, "Those three are trouble,"

"Whose trouble?" came a familiar voice from behind. Sam bent down as Dean gestured to the article, "Read."

Sam frowned as he read, "Crap!"

"Indeed," said McGonagall dismissively, "Listen I have to go and speak to the Headmaster. I'll see you around,"

She stood up promptly and left the Winchesters. Dean glanced at Sam, guessing what his brother was thinking about it. Dean commented that they should head outside to talk and Sam agreed. Both grabbing a piece of toast, they exited the Great Hall. The two brothers discussed their theories, both of them agreeing on some sort of mind control.

"So what are you planning for Malfoy's detention?" asked Sam in an effort to change the subject.

"Cleaning the guns – don't worry," he added at Sam's shocked expression, "I'll make sure he does a good job of it,"

"No, that's not what I was worried about. How are you going to explain to Malfoy that you have a trunk full of guns?"

"Simple – we are using the guns as a prop in one of our classes," shrugged Dean.

"You're not serious," gasped Sam, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, think about it Sam – these kids have got to learn what a gun is so if they are ever faced with one they know what it means, and don't do something stupid - gun safety should be taught"

Sam sighed and got up, muttering the phrase, _'have fun,' _before leaving. Dean smiled, and went down to Hagrid's hut, where the Impala was being kept. The wind teased with his robes (surprisingly enough they weren't that bad they were pretty much like a coat), but Dean didn't mind – it felt great to be out of the castle. He heard yelling from his left and saw a bunch of student's flying at the Quidditch Pitch. Judging from the maroon robes, he knew they were Gryffindor's. He stood there for a moment, watching as they ducked and dived.

"I really have to try that," muttered Dean, the amusement clear in his voice. It looked great! The ability to fly, to escape the real world, for those brief moments would be fantastic. Dean watched for a few more minutes, but then mentally kicked himself. He had to move.

He continued on his way to the Impala. Murmuring a quick hello to his beloved car, he opened the boot and packed the guns into a bag. Dean then hauled the guns up to the castle. He got to his office and surveyed it for a moment.

It was a plain room, a filing cabinet in the corner, a simple desk and chair, another two chairs, one window allowing a trail of sunlight to enter.

"I really should have decorated," said Dean dryly and then began to line up the guns on his desk. There was a sharp knock on the door. Dean took a seat at his desk and called out, "Come in,"

Draco Malfoy entered the room, blonde hair falling over his gray eyes. Dean had to admit that the teen looked rather similar to Sam – both were tall and had a sharp featured face. Also without the grease to hold up Malfoy's hair, it resembled Sam's messy mop.

"So what do you want me to do sir?" asked Malfoy bitterly.

"Clean these," said Dean, gesturing to the guns. He watched as Malfoy's eyes scanned the table before him. The poor kid looked so confused, almost as confused as Dean had been when they had gone up against the Trickster (this was before Bobby had told them what it was). As Dean watched Malfoy take it in he began to regret his idea. Probably wasn't the best idea to show that he had a collection of firearms, especially when Umbridge was digging around. Not that there were many, about four handguns, a rifle, and a Winchester shotgun. In some ways it made Dean depressed, as he thought of all the weapons he had back in America...

"Don't worry," chuckled Dean, "I'll help, since I bet you won't do it properly."

"What are they exactly?"

"You're kidding me?" said Dean with a laugh, and at Malfoy's expression he sobered up and said, "Jesus Christ, they're guns."

"Guns?" repeated Malfoy, paling a bit. Dean quickly assumed from the widening eyes, and the slight shake in his voice that he knew what guns were, even if he didn't know what they looked like.

"You know what they are?"

"Metal wands that Muggles use to kill each other with," said Malfoy in a rushed breath, looking between the guns and Dean's hand that was just resting on his gun.

Cocking an eyebrow, Dean commented dryly, "Interesting description..."

"Um...why do you have guns?"

"Gun safety for one of my classes," lied Dean, with a small shrug, "So should we get started?"

"Okay," said Malfoy shortly. Dean flashed a grin and gestured for Malfoy to sit down. He then picked up a Desert Eagle, weighing it up in his hands for a moment. He then handed it over to Malfoy and began to teach the young wizard how to clean it.

It was strangely calming, as the smell of gun oil lingered in the air, reminding Dean of his dad back in the good old days, when Sam wasn't rebelling about hunting, Dad had slowed down with the hunting, and had been teaching his sons basic weaponry and fighting, amongst other things. Everything had been working out for the Winchesters back then.

Malfoy was fairly good at cleaning guns for a first timer, picking it up quickly, though he did grumble a bit as he worked. Dean made sure he watched carefully though, just to make sure he did it properly. There is nothing worse than having a gun that doesn't work. Though it wasn't like these guns really needed a clean, still no harm...

"Professor?"

Dean blinked, and nodded, kicking himself for letting his mind drift.

"Yeah?"

"Am I seriously just going to clean guns?"

"And write lines," added Dean, smirking.

"Yeah, well, is that all I'm going to do?" asked Malfoy stiffly, placing the gun down on the table. He glanced out the window to the grounds in a wistful way. Dean followed Malfoy's gaze and admired the view of the Hogwart's ground. The lake sparkled a delightful shade of blue and the sky was clear except for a few wispy clouds.

Dean looked over to Malfoy and observed him for a moment. Dean sighed and asked, "Well if you want you can talk about why you were being so hard on Bletchely?"

Malfoy flushed and he spat out, "Why do you care so much about that blood traitor anyway?"

"Blood traitor?" coughed Dean. _Wow, this kid is quick to judge_ he thought. But it didn't really surprise Dean that much, when he thought of himself. He too made quick judgements on the supernatural, unlike Sam who thought to look from the other side of the playing field.

"Yeah, he's just like those dumbass Gryffindors and all their –"

"So you really hate the Gryffindors?" interrupted Dean, quickly.

"I...ummm..." stuttered Malfoy before he said in a stronger tone, "Yeah, I hate them,"

Dean nodded, green eyes narrowing, picking apart Malfoy's sentence. The kid had been thrown off by the directness of the question; that much was obvious. There was no doubt that Malfoy didn't like Gryffindor's but he didn't hate them. Dean knew hate, he knew it a bit too well. Just one glance at this fifteen year old told Dean that Malfoy didn't really hate them. He stared Malfoy straight in the eye, green to gray eyes and asked, "Tell me why."

"You wouldn't get it," shrugged Malfoy turning back to cleaning the guns.

"Try me," said Dean, careful not to smile, not to lose this little mind game. Malfoy nodded and drew in a deep long breath before beginning.

"Okay. Firstly, they are always winning stuff. Like in my first year – they won the House Cup because of some last minute point giving by Dumbledore when it should have been Slytherin – and then that happened again the next year, and the next," he paused, taking another breath. Dean sighed; no wonder there was such an intense rivalry between the two houses. Malfoy then went on, "Instead of getting punished and taking points away they get last minute points handed out or a special reward. And Gryffindor always treat us Slytherins badly, as does the rest of the school,"

"And you don't treat them badly?"

"Well...I guess...but they always get the impression that we're evil! We aren't, just because..." Malfoy stopped, shifting slightly in his seat. There was an awkward silence in which Malfoy contemplated what he had just said.

Dean watched the young man and deadpanned, "You bully Muggle born students Malfoy. No shit, most of the student body hate Slytherin's, especially since most of the students are probably Muggle borns or related to one – hell even you are, if you're human that is,"

"I'm not related in anyway to those –" he froze in midsentence. At that Dean had to smile.

"Gotcha," he said almost playfully, "But seriously what's your problem with Muggles?"

"My father, well he's very opinionated, let's just say," Malfoy paused, looking away and turning his attention to the gun he was cleaning, "But it's not like you care, you're on the Gryffindor's side I bet,"

"No, not really," replied Dean lying through his teeth, "I don't really care. To be honest I once would have, saw the world in black and white, but certain things have made me see the grey. Though I don't reckon its right to be abusive to Muggles,"

"Well, that's your opinion" said Malfoy bluntly. Dean shrugged, he had tried to get Malfoy to think about his prejudice (which he was kind of surprised since that hadn't been his intention in the first place), and although he hadn't changed them, hopefully he'd think about things later. The lunch bell then chimed loudly through the castle. Dean glanced at his watch – it was one o'clock. Standing up and beginning to pack the weapons away with Malfoy (surprisingly) following suit, he quickly waved off the young wizard, "Listen, its lunch, we're pretty much done. Go have lunch, detention is over,"

"Great," said Malfoy shortly, heading towards the door. Just as his fingers brushed against the door knob, he turned back as to say something, but then he shrugged and left.

* * *

_**Hogwarts Library, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

"And I thought you were heading down to Hogsmeade today," chuckled Dean after lunch as he sat next to his brother. They were in library surrounded by a pile of books, that the younger Winchester had no doubt scavenged from the shelves. Sam looked up from the large thick volume he was reading and shrugged, before turning back to it. Taking a glance at the page Sam was reading, he gaped like a stunned mullet. It was entirely written in Latin complete with diagrams and disgusting pictures of people dying.

"What the hell?"

"Exorcisms..." yawned Sam, casting his gaze to Dean. He pushed the book away and stretched, "You can read Latin,"

"I know..." blushed Dean, "But I'm not fluent for Christ's sake," taken in his brother's appearance, the bags under his eyes, the four o'clock shadow, and the pale complexion, he critically asked, "You even eaten?"

"I'll eat at lunch,"

"It's three Sam, three,"

"What..." said Sam, visibly confused. He glanced at his watch, eyes widening. Dean sighed, his brother was just like John had been when they were growing up, obsessive, plagued with nightmares, and yet he had thought Sam had gotten over it - it had been a year since Jess' death after all. Then again the realization of this entire world; was probably a strong incentive to dive back into obsession.

Glancing back at the pile of books, he asked casually, "What have you been doing all day?"

"Decoding this, looking for information for our gargoyle problem...looking for books on Demon's, which are surprisingly rare to find in this library,"

Dean snorted, "You're kidding, but this place is massive,"

"I know," smiled Sam, "A nerd's dream, so maybe there is something, I mean it's not like I've combed through this whole place - too big, it would take ages,"

"No shit, but nothing?"

"In the Restricted Section yes...but like I said haven't looked through everywhere,"

"You want help?"

"Sure," deadpanned Sam, turning back to his book. Dean pulled a book towards him and opened it. It was called _Phantoms of Hell_. To his relief it wasn't in Latin.

"So got anything from that book?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, this ritual says it can kill demons but it's only been used once, like seven hundred years ago or something,"

"What does it say?" said Dean quickly.

"It needs sacrifices, thirteen new born babies, all born on a full moon, the same full moon, among other things,"

Dean paled, that was wrong, so wrong.

"No wonder it's only been used once, that's sick,"

"Uh huh," agreed Sam and then he added, "and all the other ones I've read are just exorcisms for various types of demons like water and so forth,"

Dean nodded. It looked like most of the information they would find here would be stuff they could get off Bobby or any other hunter, then again who knew. He began reading and as silence desceneded around him, he was forcibly reminded of studying for exams, "I feel like I'm at school again,"

"You are, technically," chuckled Sam. Dean grunted and Sam expanded, "So how was detention?"

"Great," deadpanned Dean, then in a lighter tone, "He's not a bad kid...just, well , he's influenced. If he had been brought up differently..."

"Everyone is influenced Dean, you of all people know what happens when circumstances are changed, everything happens for a reason, it's fate," muttered Sam. Dean glared at his brother – for the last comment.

"Since when did you become a shrink, and besides, fate is crap, anyone can change their destiny,"

"One could argue that it's the person's destiny to change their destiny, thus making the first –"

Dean cut in, "What the hell, Sam?"

"I read it in a book,"

"Here?"

"Yeah, it was about Seers and fortune telling so I thought, if anything could help with my visions..." said Sam slowly, gesturing to a yet another thick book, though it looked more recent then the one Sam was currently reading.

Dean quickly glanced through the book. It sounded and probably was a load of bullshit. Going on about how destiny and fate are one, and to foresee is to change or not, but fate decides that and so forth, which then means it was your destiny to change an event that was already going to be changed and yada yada. It was enough to make Dean's head blow up. Oh how he would love to burn that book...

Whistling low, he mentioned softly, "Just take some dreamless sleep potions Sam,"

Sam's eyebrows knitted together, "But what if I take the potion and then I miss something..."

"You need sleep and besides, aren't visions and dreams different?"

"They started out as dreams," reminded Sam. Dean snorted, deciding it was his turn to dish out some sage words, "They were never dreams but visions you just happened to have while you were asleep, so take the potion,"

"Okay," muttered Sam. Dean, mentally smiled, though he did realise he would have to monitor if his brother held to his word or not. Turning back to his book, he began to read. For the next hour he lost himself in his reading. He would have to rethink his earlier assumption on this information being useless. Looking at his watch he decided that he might head back to his room for a shower. As he thought about the beautiful high pressure shower (which are so hard to get when you stay in one star hotels), it reminded him of the painful fact of facing the gargoyles...

Raising an eyebrow he asked Sam, "So what about the gargoyles?"

At that Sam chuckled, "Well technically they are just architectural features originating in France. Pretty much they are a fancy way to have a water spout – you know, to get water to run off from the roof. Anyway from these grotesque water features –"

"Sculptures were made and not used for the same purpose," said Dean quickly, "So our guys are just cursed or charmed , as I suppose the wizards would call it?"

"Probably, and for good reason too, like keeping out students and so forth,"

Dean sighed, "So we can't do anything, then?"

A wicked grin spread on Sam's face, "We might be able too."

* * *

_**Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

The next night Harry sat in the Gryffindor Common Room, in his favourite squishy armchair – shaking in silent fury, as he thought of Percy's letter to Ron. He was dangerous? Percy thought he was dangerous? That Ron should drop him and become a loyal little Umbridge follower? To tell Umbridge lies? He couldn't believe it. Though he liked Percy least out of the Weasley children, Harry could have never of thought that Percy would write things like that.

He breathed in deeply and then said, "So, Ron –"

"Don't even start!" growled Ron, his cheeks flustered. He grabbed the letter and ripped it in half, "_Percy is,"_ the halves became quarters, _"the biggest git,"_ another rip, _"in the,"_ another, _"world,"_ and then the red head chucked the pieces into the roaring fire.

"I can't believe he wrote that," said Ron, standing up, running his hands through his hair.

"I wonder what's going to be in the Prophet tomorrow..." said Hermione seriously, biting her lip.

"I think I'd rather not know," said Ron dryly. Harry sighed and stared at the fire. As he watched the red flames dance and twirl over the logs, he gasped, and fell forward – crawling to the fire.

"Sirius?"

* * *

_**Umbridge's Office, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

Umbridge sat on her desk, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Tomorrow it will be official and her takeover of Hogwarts would begin, and about damn time. Her poor Fudge having to deal with the likes of Dumbledore, well at least she'd be able to settle a few things straight.

Suddenly an owl began to tap at her window. Umbridge rose and proceeded over to it and let it inside. She immediately recognised a Ministry owl. She stroked it and then took the letter from its beak, her eyes scanning over it, her face exploding in an evil grin.

This was so perfect...

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well I haven't updated in ages and I say sorry for that. I have my reasons, but anyway I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter...trust me I edited this chapter a lot and I'm still not sure nut I never am, so tell me if you love it or hate it or anything in between!

On the next update, well I don't want to make any promises on when, but I am working on the next chapter. Trust me (damn it a promise!), I will finish this story, I will.


	10. Auror's Logic

**Last Time: **The Winchesters have just started to work at Hogwarts. Dean has already had a heart to heart with Malfoy, Sam is angry at Umbridge for slicing Harry's hand, oh and Umbridge has began to dig into the Winchesters past. She now has said information, Sam needs to sleep, and Sirius has contacted the Golden Trio...now the adventure continues...

**Chapter Ten: Auror's Logic**

_**Earlier on that Evening, Ministry of Magic, London, England**_

It was tedious, it was boring, and yet it had to be done. The first impression most people got of Aurors was that they led exciting action filled lives and went on sexy or exotic or dangerous missions, that somehow followed the plot line of a Muggle Spy film. Well, that was half of the truth, Aurors did lead high profile missions and were trained in espionage, but when it came down to it they were just like any other law enforcement group, they still had paperwork, good old paperwork.

Tonks sighed, placing her long elegant eagle feathered quill down, and she began to flex her hand. After writing for four straight hours in an effort to complete four reports, her hand was definitely feeling it. Not that the reports were important. Once written they would be sent off, stamped and lost forever in the crappy Ministry filing system and no one would give them a second thought.

Tonks rubbed her temple, eyes closed, mouth opened wide as she let off a yawn. Oh how she wished to have a higher clearance as an Auror but she was still a rookie, still third grade, still being sent on mediocre missions.

Suddenly soft footsteps could be heard approaching. Tonks snapped open her eyes to see the Department Head of Magical law Enforcement, Amelia Bones stop in the doorway of her cubicle.

"Wotcher Madame Bones!"

"Isn't it time for you to be heading home?"

"And do what? Be drilled about the Dark Arts and the problems of young people by Moody? I think not," deadpanned Tonks. Bones' eyes twinkled in amusement. It was well known that ever since Mad Eye Moody had returned from his stint locked up for nine months, that the Ministry now thought the ex-Auror too insane (his various other offences had been taken into consideration) to live alone. No one had wanted him, so naturally as an Order member and as a gesture of thanks to her mentor Tonks had offered her place.

She regretted in some ways allowing him into her comfortable one bedroomed (the Ministry had placed a second bedroom for Moody) London apartment. Her building was mostly filled with young people that had a habit to hold late night parties and call in at random times. In the end Tonks told her neighbours to clear off whilst her 'paranoid great uncle from the country who needs medical assistance, hence why he is staying with me' was staying.

"How is Alastor going?"

"Fine, if you count attempting to hex my neighbours as fine,"

"What?" said Bones in alarm.

"Oh, it was nothing," Tonks chuckled, "Actually it was pretty funny. I'd gone to beg some tomato paste from a neighbour, and this guy called Nick, went into my apartment with the intention of asking for coriander and Moody though he was a Death Eater and hexed the guy," Bones looked like she was going to have a heart attack, "Don't worry I cleaned it up with Magical Law Enforcement, and besides it was only the body bind curse, so no biggie,"

"I hope not," sighed Bones and then with a small smirk she added, "Just make sure it's all cleaned up,"

Bones left sharply, and Tonks smiled, before turning back to her paperwork. She knew Bones quite well, since her mum, Adromeda, and Bones were old friends, and it wasn't the first time Bones had turned a blind eye to the little misdemeanours Moody had gotten himself into. In her book, as long as no one got hurt and it was all cleared up, no harm. In fact she was probably the only reason Moody wasn't sitting in a cell in Azkaban. Fudge knew after all that Moody was friendly with Dumbledore and everyone knew what Fudge thought of the Hogwarts Headmaster.

She froze as she heard soft murmuring from down the hall. Straining her ears, she heard the gruff voice of her boss, Rufus Scrimgeour and the softer voice of John Dawlish. Feeling a tingle of excitement in her stomach and she rose quickly, grabbing her bag and cloak, and left her cubicle.

Sneaking along the corridor, she stopped just short of Dawlish's cubicle. Making her ears grow she listened carefully. To her a meeting between Scrimgeour and Dawlish couldn't bode well for the Order.

Dawlish (in Tonk's opinion, and no, she hadn't based it solely on that date – if you could call it that even – a year ago) was an incompetent idiot who only made it into the Auror office because of his daddy's large paycheck. Though to be fair he was smart and had nearly beaten Moody's marks in the Training Course (something no one had ever gotten close to before), but his never ending snide hints about a promotion to deputy head, his cheap aftershave, and the fact he ass kissed Fudge all the way home was enough to make Tonks want to puke.

Scrimgeour, on the other hand, had Tonks respect in the bag. Tough and dedicated to catching Dark Wizards, he was the perfect boss for Aurors. He was loyal like a lion to his 'kids' and would take a killing curse for a civilian without a second's thought. He was a good man, though she remembered when Kingsley had told her that Scrimgeour was breathing down his neck about the Sirius issue. That and Fudge's meddling left Tonks with a feeling of great unrest.

"Winchester?" there was a slight pause in which a large stone dropped into Tonks' stomach, before Scrimgeour continued, "I've never come across that name,"

"They're Muggles boss –"

"And you're investigating because she decided to cut through the red tape? Dawlish, I do not like being kept out of the loop," growled Scrimgeour, "Don't you trust me? Because if that's the way you feel then...?"

The question hung in the air and Tonks felt a small smile tug at her lips. Take that Dawlish!

"No disrespect sir, but Umbridge asked me specifically," replied Dawlish in rapid fire, though there was a light shake in his usual confident tone, "and I didn't think it would amount to this,"

Tonks' heart skipped an extra beat. What had he dug up? What had he dug up?

"And what is this exactly?" came Scrimgeour's voice.

"The Winchesters are wanted felons in the USA, look at it," the shuffling of papers were heard, whilst Dawlish narrated, "And Dumbledore has just employed them,"

A long pause before a short curse from her boss.

"Exactly sir," said Dawlish smugly.

"Ignore what I said earlier, this is a serious breach of our laws. What was he thinking when he hired two criminals...let alone Muggles! Lupin, Snape, Moody and even that Lockhart fellow were one thing but this..." there was a thud as what sounded like the file landed on Dawlish's desk, "That's not all is it?"

A sharp intake of breath, "No it appears that Nymphadora has –"

"Tonks has been seen in company," growled Scrimgeour.

"Yes, the bartenders words were, and I quote, 'they should have gotten a room sooner', end quote,"

Her cheeks reddened, as did her hair. No way Dawlish had found out about her date, no way, she had been so careful, changing her appearance and everything. She had looked Spanish for Christsakes! And what was that bartender playing at? She had not been snogging Dean! She recalled the icy glare he had given her when she didn't tip and immediately wanted to bust that guy's ass all the way to Kingdom Come.

"Perfect...," said Scrimgeour sarcastically and Tonks could envision his eye roll, "how did you find out about Tonks? And does Umbridge know about this?"

"The other day she was talking about some American who had just come over the pond and how she was heading on a date with him," Tonks wanted to die, "After checking some records, it became clear that a few days before that, Dumbledore had hired two Americans who had just arrived in England to work," Tonks really wanted to die, "feeling concerned, I put the two and two together, hoping that she wasn't being played by a –"

"Cut the bullshit Dawlish," interrupted Tonks' boss, "You just wanted to catch Tonks' date out and get him deported, so you followed her," a long pause in which Tonks wondered what was the best way to murder Dawlish. She blinked as Scrimegeour began to speak again, "Don't think that I don't know what goes on in my own department. Now, does Umbridge know about your findings?"

"I...uhhh... I sent her an owl just before," stuttered Dawlish, and now Tonks really wanted to die and take down Dawlish when she did. She froze though as Dawlish continued, "Only the wanted felon Muggle part, I didn't mention Tonks' date,"

Tonks heart skipped an extra beat, and she felt pure relief. Though still murderous at Dawlish for digging up on the Winchesters and stalking her on her date, she was at least grateful that he had an ounce of loyalty to his fellow Auror.

"Thank god." murmured Scrimgeour in an undertone and then louder, "I want a copy of this on my office tomorrow morning, and if you find anything else, or if Umbridge comes to you again, or anyone for that matter, I want your ass in my office to tell me, understand?"

"Yes sir," came an abrupt reply. Tonks, sensing that that was the end of the conversation, began to head towards the elevator. As she moved back she heard Dawlish ask almost tentatively, "Um sir?"

"Yes?"

"What will happen to Tonks?"

"Go home."

Tonks sighed, and cleared off, keeping her head low. Just as she reached the elevator she heard the familiar bark of Scrimgeour's voice, "Tonks!"

Turning around in an instant, she watched as he approached her, before replying softly, "Yes sir?"

"In my office tomorrow at nine, don't be late,"

"Sure thing..." said Tonks. Scrimgeour nodded curtly and went into the elevator.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked, watching the young Auror as she stood stopped in her track. Blinking and nodding, she entered the elevator, all thoughts on reporting to Dumbledore on what she had just heard.

* * *

_**Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

"Sirius?"

Even as Harry uttered his godfather's name he couldn't believe it. Staring at the flames, his mouth gaping, he stared at the smiling face of Sirius Black, as the flames licked at Sirius' face. Harry blinked, why was his godfather here? His mind briefly thought back to the letter he had sent and knew that this was the reply. Hell, he hadn't of expected a reply this fast, though he was grateful for some council on his scar, Umbridge, and where Hagrid could be.

Hermione stared at Harry, "What did you say," she looked at the fireplace, "– Sirius?"

"Well, hello to you too Hermione," grinned Sirius.

"What are you doing here mate?" came Ron's bemused voice.

"Thought I'd check up on you, make sure you're not getting into any trouble,"

Hermione frowned, "Trouble? Sirius, what if someone saw you?"

"Hermione, I was careful, only popping up every half hour, for about a second," Sirius deadpanned, "And besides, I think only one girl saw me, and she probably thought I was a funny looking log or something..."

Harry and Ron snorted with laughter at the thought of one of the first years seeing a wanted criminal head pop up in a fire. Poor kid...

Hermione cleared her throat, "That was awfully risky –"

"You sound like Molly,"

Another snort of laughter from the boys; sent a dagger stare from Hermione. Ron raised his hands up defencelessly and sobered up under the murderous gaze from his friend. He sighed and asked, "Seriously Sirius, why are you here?"

"Besides the fact I'm freaking bored?" Sirius rolled his eyes, "Listen, I needed a way to reply to Harry's letter –"

Harry cringed instantly, his death sentence had just been written. He knew he should of told his friends, well he had been going to in all fairness, the whole Cho incident up in the Owlery had pretty much pushed the letter out of his mind.

Hermione turned to her friend, eyes narrowed, "You didn't say you wrote a letter!"

"It sorta slipped my mind..." shrugged Harry hopelessly. When her glare didn't break he cried out, "I did write it in code! No one could have gotten any information out of it, other than Sirius! Right?"

"No, it was good," smiled Sirius, "Anyway we should get on with this in case we are interrupted – about your scar –"

"What –" gaped Ron, now also staring at Harry.

"Later Ron," interrupted Hermione, "Go on Sirius,"

"Well I can guess it's not fun when it happens," hypothesised Sirius, "But now that he's back it's bound to happen more often,"

"I know, Dumbledore mentioned that last year," said Harry "I guess Voldemort," he froze as he thought back to his detention with Umbridge, "was feeling really angry or something when it happened..." he sighed, "So you don't think it has any connection to Umbridge...?"

"Trust me on this, I know her reputation, and Umbridge isn't –"

"She could be one," muttered Harry darkly.

"The world isn't painted in black and white Harry," said Sirius wisely, "Though she is a nasty piece of work – you should hear Remus talk about her,"

"Lupin knows Umbridge?" asked Ron.

"Hardly," snorted Sirius, "'Bout two years ago she drafted some anti-werewolf legislation making it impossible for Moony to get work,"

"What's she got against werewolves?" cried out Hermione.

"Scared of them probably," replied Sirius and he expanded, "Apparently she loathes part humans. Last year I think she tried to round up and tag merpeople and about three years ago she was trying to get the centaurs put in a 'wildlife' reserve which really was just this big paddock somewhere in Wales – that reminds me how are her lessons? She training you to kill dangerous halfbreeds?"

"No," answered Harry bitterly, "We're not allowed to use magic at all, just read this stupid textbook,"

"Yeah, and besides, if we wanted to learn to kill part humans, we could just ask Sam and Dean," joked Ron.

"That's not funny Ron!" said Hermione.

"What – I just –"

"She's right Ron," said Sirius. Harry glanced at his friends in annoyance. They were heading way off topic.

In an attempt to steer the conversation back on topic he asked, "Do you have any idea why we can't use magic?"

"We have a theory," Sirius nodded, "Apparently Fudge doesn't want you guys trained in combat,"

There was complete and utter silence.

"What the hell? Trained in combat? What are we supposed to be doing, forming an army? A rebellion to take down the evil empire?"

"Well, apparently you are, according to Fudge," Sirius paused and rephrased, "Well Dumbledore is anyway,"

Ron shook his head in disbelief, "That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard, and that's including all the stuff Loony Lovegood's been saying,"

"So we can't learn Defence because Fudge is scared that we'll attack the Ministry!?" cried out Hermione in anger.

"Yeah, he reckons Dumbledore is power hungry – which is ridiculous since the guy has been offered the position of Minister like twenty times and has never even considered it to date," said Sirius, "Sooner or later he's going to arrest Dumbledore on some trumped up charge,"

At those words, Percy's letter strolled into Harry's mind. Glancing up at the ceiling and then back down to his godfather he asked, "D'you know if anything about Dumbledore is going to be in the paper tomorrow morning? Coz Ron's brother Percy says there is going to –"

"I don't know," cut off Sirius, "haven't heard any news from any Order members – everyone is too busy, even my damn cousin. Oh yeah that reminds me, tell Dean to talk to Tonks, because you just do not take a woman out on a nice evening and then not call back,"

"You been watching a few Muggle movies Sirius?" winked Hermione which was met by an eye roll.

"No," he replied bluntly, "I did date you know, I do know how to treat a woman and –"

"So, hold up – Dean and Tonks?" said Ron.

Sirius ignored Ron, "Just tell Dean to talk to Tonks – though secretly because obviously it wouldn't be a good thing to publicise –"

"Dean and Tonks? I don't believe it," muttered Ron softly. Hermione frowned at him.

"Like you didn't notice Ron, they did kiss before they went to Hogwarts –"

"They did what – how –"

Harry cut off his friend's sentence. He really didn't want to hear about Dean and Tonks' personal relationship. He asked, "Have you heard any news from Hagrid?"

"Ah," said Sirius, looking slightly awkward, "Well he's supposed to be back..." at Harry, Ron, and Hermione's panic stricken expressions he added, "Listen, Dumbledore isn't worried so there is no reason –"

"But if he's supposed to be –" said Hermione.

"Madame Maxime was with him and we've been in touch and she said they just got separated coming home," interrupted Sirius quickly, "Listen, just don't ask too many questions about where Hagrid has gone. We don't want to draw attention to the fact he isn't back. Hagrid's tough, he'll be okay," the golden trio's faces were still filled with worry, "Think about it if Sam and Dean can go on a hunting road trip, then Hagrid who knows all the ins and out of the wizarding world, and is a half giant nonetheless, will be perfectly fine," he froze, "Hey, is anyone there at your end?"

Harry shook his head, "Nah, must be –"

Sirius frowned and briefly his head vanished and then reappeared again, "Shit, Tonks!" he swore, "I'm not supposed to be –"

"Just go!" Hermione hissed.

"Okay, okay! Stay safe and Harry, no more little outbursts," Sirius grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes, being told to be careful by his godfather was so belittling, it's not he that was the wanted criminal. Rolling his eyes, but with a slight smile, "Yes, mother,"

"See you mate," farewelled Ron cheerfully.

"Yeah, good bye," smiled Sirius and then at Hermione and Harry's stare, "I'm going, I'm going, I'm gone!"

And he was truly gone and all that was left behind was the flickering flames of the Gryffindor's fireplace.

* * *

_**Number 12 Grimmuald Place, London, England**_

Sirius rose quickly from the fireplace and headed to the hallway. His curiosity was piqued, since he knew his cousin wasn't here for a social visit. Glancing at Tonks, and taking in her flustered face, messy hair, and wide eyes, he instantly knew something was amiss.

"Tonks...?" he started.

"Sirius, I need to talk to Dumbledore!" she said urgently, "Can I use Phineas?"

"Yeah sure,"

Tonks nodded and raced forward, intent on getting up to Phineas Nigellus' portrait, when Sirius grabbed her, holding her left forearm tightly.

"What?"

"What happened Tonks?" asked Sirius, as Tonks tugged away from her cousin. She sighed, and said shortly, "Umbridge - she knows about the Winchesters – we need to warn them!"

She took in a deep breath trying to calm herself down. Sirius frowned, his grip tightening. He could tell that wasn't the only thing on Tonks mind.

"Let me go!" said Tonks breaking through Sirius' thoughts. Sirius shook his head.

"What else?"

She blinked, "Scrimegeour knows – they found out about me and Dean!"

"Crap,"

"Exactly!" said Tonks indignantly. She pulled away from Sirius and raced to the portrait leaving her cousin, standing alone, running his hands through his hair.

* * *

_**Winchesters' Room, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

"Sammy?"

Sam breathed in deeply.

"Sam?"

Sam wished the voice would go away.

"Sam!"

Sam buried his head into his pillow, curling up in a ball.

"I know you're awake Sam!"

Sam snuggled into the doona, still willing the voice to leave.

"Sam Winchester!"

Sam's eyes opened slightly. He immediately closed them as the softest light stung them. He mumbled something and rolled onto his other side, away from the voice.

"C'mon Sammy..."

The voice was gentle now, softer. Sam groaned, slowly opening his eyes, his body dead. It was rare that Sam, felt like this, so warm, so safe, so relaxed, so out of it but not in a you just got knocked out kind of way, more like the best sleep ever but now you're awake. It was heaven and Sam didn't want to leave it not for anyone or anything.

"Sam," called the voice again.

"'mma getting up," yawned Sam, stretching out his long body, eyes now fully open. He rolled over and faced his big brother. To Sam's surprise Dean was already dressed in jeans and a long black robe. His hair was slightly damp, signifying that Dean had showered. That confused Sam slightly, how early was it? Dean was hardly ever awake and dressed before Sam, and since Sam woke up around six every morning, what was the damn time?

Sam sat up slowly and swung his legs out of bed. Yawning deeply, he pushed back his bangs and asked, "Time?"

"Quarter to eight," smirked Dean.

"What?"

"How did you sleep Sam?"

Sam met his brother's gaze and smiled. Last night Dean had managed to obtain a Dreamless Sleep Potion from the Potions Master and thus allowing Sam to have the most peaceful night of sleep in a long time. Just plain sleep – no apocalyptic dreams, painful visions, just blackness and the soft comfort of peace.

"Told you so," said Dean. Sam nodded and then his nose twitched as a familiar smell met his nostrils. Sam looked over to his bedside table, eyes widening.

"Is that Starbucks? Mocha Latté?" asked Sam, hardly believing his words. He missed Starbucks – true it was a generic chain coffee house, but he had been practically raised drinking it so it was like the icing on the top after his long slumber.

Dean nodded, "Go get a shower, get dressed and then we can head over to breakfast,"

Sam ignored his brother, "How?"

"House Elves!"

Sam eyed his brother, his mind taking a while to note what Dean had said. House Elves? Those little gremlin type things that cooked and cleaned for the Hogwarts occupants?

"You got a house elf to get Starbucks?" laughed Sam in sheer disbelief. His mind immediately thought of one of those little wrinkly elves ordering a Starbucks coffee in the middle of a London shopping mall. He could pitchy the little voice, and the poor kid who had to listen to the elf, probably freaked out beyond his wits.

"Yep," came Dean's smooth reply.

"But -?"

"I asked, they obeyed, thought I might be nice to you,"

The last comment, granted an eye brow raise from Sam, "What's the occasion?"

"We've made it through our first week of teaching and are about to start our second, and considering our record of _law abiding_ jobs I thought that Starbucks was perfect," explained Dean, emphasising the words law abiding with amusement. Sam chuckled.

"I don't know about you bro, but I have held a job longer than a week,"

"When?" asked Dean, shocked. Sam smiled and got up, grabbing a towel and some clothes. He wandered over to the bathroom door. Sam stood there for a moment as he remembered getting a job at the local Wall-Mart. In fact, if it wasn't for his crappy minimal salary paying job he would never have met Jess.

It had been his first day on the job, and he had been moving shopping trolleys from the car park and into the supermarket. Jess had been walking across the car park when her cell had rung. Answering it immediately, she had stopped for a few vital seconds. Sam had heard the roar of the engine and then seen a white SUV racing through the car park heading straight her. Naturally Sam had leapt out and pulled her to the side.

"Holy shit!" she had said, shaking slightly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just...thanks," she had said blushing. She breathed in and then had stared at Sam for about a minute.

"Hello?" he had asked, snapping his fingers near her face.

She had nodded, "yeah, just...I'm Jess,"

"Sam," he had offered. Suddenly her eyes had wandered slightly, once again drinking in his appearance, as if she was trying to recognise him.

She smiled, "You're in one of my classes - History of Conviction 101?"

Now it was Sam's turn to stare, as everything feel into place in his head. Shit, he had just saved Jessica Moore's life. From various rumours he knew that Jess lived in a sorority just off campus and came from the Upper East Side in New York. Apparently she came from a family of cops and had a reputation for being a party girl.

"Yeah..." he had replied. Jess glanced at her watch.

"Well, I had better go," she said, apologetic, "Nice meeting you Sam,"

"Nice to meet you too," he had replied weakly and then she had left. It was only a few months later at a New Year's party they had finally started dating. Shaking his head and jolting his mind back to the present he said to Dean, "How do you think I afforded the rent on that apartment when I was at Stanford?"

"Well since we've started hunting then –"

"Thanks Dean," said Sam shortly, moving into the bathroom. He showered quickly, enjoying the initial icy blast of the shower that woke him up, and then the slow gathering heat that entered the water. Grabbing some of the Hogwarts supplied Shampoo he washed his hair and then for the hell of it squirted some Conditioner into his palm.

He left the shower after making sure all the product was washed out and dried himself off. Wrapping the towel around his head like a turban, he pulled on his briefs (yes he was a brief man unlike Dean), and grabbed his jeans. Thanks to the Hogwarts meals they felt slightly tighter the usual.

Sam slipped into a light blue shirt and then unwrapped the towel, rubbing the soft fabric against his hair in an attempt to try it. Satisfied, Sam placed the towel on the towel rack and left the bathroom. He grabbed his Starbucks and sipped it slowly, savouring the taste.

"Let's go," said Dean, standing up from his bed, Starbucks clasped in his own hand. Sam nodded and quickly grabbed a robe from the wardrobe and pulled it over his head. Both brothers left the room and began the journey to the Great Hall.

They entered the large hall just as the Post arrived. Dean grumbled as an owl nearly scraped him, whilst Sam made a direct beeline for the staff table. As they began to serve themselves bacon, toast and eggs, Dean started to laugh.

"What is it?" asked Sam. Dean motioned his head to the Slytherin table. Sam stared in slight shock, and he too started to laugh.

"What is so funny?" came Snape's voice from next to Sam, looking up from a letter. Sam cocked his head to the Slytherin's table. Snape too stared in shock for a moment but he didn't break into laughter, but rose and rushed over to his students.

"Poor kid," commented Sam, sobering up a little. Dean nodded and sipped his Starbucks.

"Well it was bound to happen eventually – owls do need to shit too," said Dean, still looking at the second year, who now had a brilliant shade of white, running through his dark curly locks.

Sam had been about to take a mouthful of bacon and egg, when the Charms Professor squeaked next to him. Sam glanced over to the little man, and was about to ask what was wrong, when his eyes were drawn to the Daily Prophet before Flitwick.

"Dean," said Sam quickly, placing down his knife and fork. Dean glanced over, and he swore as he saw the headline for the Prophet.

**MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM**

**DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED**

**FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR**

"What the hell is a High Inquisitor?" asked Dean, "How did she...?"

Sam read it in a heart's beat and looked up at Dean. He opened his mouth and quickly summarised the article, "It's an attempt to take over Hogwarts basically. The apparent reasoning behind it is that parents of students have been getting worried about the goings on at Hogwarts, so the Minister has appointed Umbridge to basically be the Internal Affairs of Hogwarts. It also says the only reason Umbridge is even working here is because the Minister passed some law saying she had to,"

"How did he manage that?"

"Basically it's the same system used with substitute teachers. You know if a teacher is sick, school's have to have a replacement and if they can't the government has a list of subs that can be used," explained Sam.

"So Umbridge now has the power to inspect us or something," said Dean, drawing from Sam's rat squad comment.

"Yep,"

Dean paled, "Sam, she's going to be out to get us, you realise,"

"Huh?"

"Well she's already looking into our pasts – if she finds anything, which she probably will, we are screwed,"

Sam nodded in silent agreement. He sighed and said softly, "We'll just keep on doing our jobs, and talk to Dumbledore, that's all we can do, short of -" he glanced around the hall and saw the 'High Inquisitor' enter, "Let's go,"

Dean couldn't agree more. The two hunters rose, and grabbed their Starbucks, clearing out of the Hall as fast as they could without looking suspicious. As they made it into the corridor, Dean muttered, "I wonder what the student's will think of this."

* * *

_**Tonks' Apartment, London, England **_

"Can't I call in sick?"

Mad Eye Moody glanced up from the Daily Prophet, and zeroed in on Tonks. She was sitting across the table, a plate of Muesli untouched, a now cold cup of coffee (also untouched) in front of her, and her face was giving of a pained expression. Instead of hair being its usual perky new age multicoloured style, it was shoulder length and mousey brown.

"No," he replied, turning back to the paper, nose wrinkling in disgust as he read the front page. He was imagining wasn't he? How dare they write something like that! Those ungrateful snobs, if it wasn't for him Azkaban wouldn't even be filled. The nerve of the media these days was absolutely outrageous. In his day Auror's were shown respect, and the Prophet kept its nose in its own business.

"Please!"

"No,"

Tonks groaned, "Why not?"

"It will look suspicious," commented Moody dryly, reading the paper with one eye, and staring at Tonks with the other.

"How the hell will it look suspicious?" when Moody didn't answer Tonks growled, "Answer me you senile –"

Moody's temper flared and he whipped out his wand, pointing it straight at Tonks heart, "Never call me senile Nymphardora Athena Margaret Tonks!"

Tonks, placed her arms up slowly in a defensive position, eyes never leaving her mentor's wand, "Okay Moody, I'm sorry I called you se –" she froze as Moody's other eye looked at her, "I'm sorry that I showed you disrespect!" she said quickly.

"That's better," growled Moody, placing his wand in his pocket, turning his attention back to the paper. He sighed and pushed it away and then said, "Tonks, why do you think it would be suspicious if you called in sick?"

Tonks rolled her eyes; she hated this, when he treated her like a school girl. She glanced out her kitchen window, staring at the London skyline and replied, "Because Scrimegeour has already ordered me to his office and if I don't turn up I'm obviously hiding something. And that could result in him coming over here and maybe by freak chance finding some Order stuff that you have,"

"Exactly,"

Tonks, leaned against her chair, "But what -?"

"Tell Scrimegeour the truth, well not the complete truth, but you know what you can say and what you can't so don't worry, and just stick to the story,"

"Hello, he practises Legilmency,"

"And you are an Occlumencist," countered Moody.

Tonks frowned and bit her lip. She couldn't believe that she was being such a wuss about this. She couldn't believe she was considering burying her head in the sand. Dean needed help and she could do just that. She knew that the Winchesters would be put before Wizengamot and probably have their memories erased and handed over to Muggle FBI Authorities, and she wasn't going to let that happen.

She breathed in and screwed her face up in concentration. In rapid concession her hair, shrunk back to her nape, and changed to a wicked purple. Opening her eyes, they changed to an icy blue. Smiling she stood up.

"That's my girl," said Moody. Tonks raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you, my father?"

"Watch your tongue Nymphadora – I might as well be,"

Tonks rolled her eyes and went to her bedroom. Pulling off her 'I Love NY' t-shirt, she changed into her new black, with blue lining robes. Admiring herself in the mirror, she made sure her wand was pocketed and that her bag was ready.

Heading into the living room, she called, "Ciao later Moody!"

He grunted in reply and Tonks smiled. She walked over to her fireplace, and cupped some Floo Powder in her hand. Chucking it on the fire, a smoky aroma filled her apartment, as emerald green flames rose up. Tonks stepped into the hearth, allowing the fire's warmth to wash over her. She breathed in and roared, "Ministry of Magic!"

Suddenly Tonks was eternally grateful that she hadn't had that much to eat for breakfast as she was sucked down a black hole, a terrible roaring in her ears. Something knocked against her left elbow and she tucked it in and closed her eyes.

A few minutes later, she felt her feet find solid ground. The shock made her knees give way and she found herself doubling over. She clambered to her feet and quickly brushed the soot of her robes.

"Are you okay Nymphadora?" came a cold sneer. Tonks felt her blood turn cold as she wheeled around to see her uncle standing a few metres behind her.

"Fine Malfoy," she said softly.

He smiled cruelly, "Of course Nymphadora," taking careful deliverance as he pronounced her name. He continued, "I am surprised that you took the Floo though – still having trouble with Apparation? I wouldn't bring it up but," his eyes tinkled in delight as Tonks squirmed, "your aunt was curious,"

Tonks eyed him and shrugged, "What are you talking about? I can Apparate fine," it was a lie, she still struggled not to leave fingernails or even clothing behind. Luckily if it was a body part (a small one at that like fingernail) it wasn't a problem for Tonks. Still, it was hell embarrassing. She just couldn't get those 3 D's right.

"Course,"

"What brings you here?" asked Tonks quickly, raising an eyebrow, "I didn't think you worked,"

"Oh I do," he chuckled, "And I believe it's none of your business Nymphadora,"

"Must be real hard too when you can't even take you head out of your ass for one moment.," snapped back Tonks. Of course he wasn't going to announce to the world what he was doing.

"Your humour...has always been amusing,"

Tonks cheeks flushed at the comment. Tonks really didn't like the way he said it. If he had sneered she couldn't have cared less, but the way he held himself, the careful deliverance as he spoke, that fine proper British accent that you expected of the royal family, and also that cold empty look he got in his eyes, except for that small evil spark, reminded her of someone talking to a dumb mule.

All her life certain pure blooded families (the Muggle hating ones) had always spoken to her like that, they always picked up on her little Muggle habits, or teased her because she spoke with a slightly cruder tongue.

"See ya later Malfoy," said Tonks sharply and began to walk over to the elevators – determined to get to the break room where she could get a nice big cup of tea. Sadly though, she realized, as she stood in the elevator surrounded by fellow Ministry workers; that wouldn't be possible since she needed to be in Scrimegeour's office soon.

The elevator pinged as it stopped at her floor. Tonks wormed her way out and headed straight to her cubicle. Dawlish yelled a greeting to her, which she ignored. Just before she hit the first lot of cubicles she signed in at the Log Book.

She sauntered to her cubicle and dumped her bag on her seat. She left the cubicle, and headed down the hallway away from the elevators, towards his office. Soon the fine oak door; and the large window with a venetian blind closed up to add privacy, came into view.

Raising her fist she rapped on the door.

"Enter," barked Scrimegeour's voice.

"You wanted to see me –"

"Sit down Tonks," he said simply, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. Tonks slid into it, face set, mental shields up. She leaned back, trying to portray the image of someone unconcerned. Scrimegeour studied her for a moment, and Tonks found herself locked in his gaze. She suddenly felt like she was back in Potions in her seventh year and Snape had just called on her to answer a question to which she had no idea what the answer was.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked quickly.

"No sir," she spoke, careful to keep her voice even, not to look away, not to fiddle, or do anything that would suggest she did know why she was here.

Scrimegeour sighed, "Don't lie to me Tonks – you overheard last night,"

"I don't –" Tonks flushed and cursed silently one of the basic tricks of Occlumency never look at the enemy in the eye – ever! She glanced away, "Yeah, well I did sir,"

"Then you do know why you're here?"

"Yes sir,"

"That's one lie already third grade Auror Tonks, and it's not even nine o'clock," growled Scrimegeour, he leaned in, eyes narrowing, trying to find her eyes again, "What did I say to you when you joined the team?"

"No lies, no matter how big or how small, as they can hamper justice and lose lives," Tonks recited instantly, she looked over his head to the many awards that hung from his wall and said softly, "Sir I didn't mean to -"

"I know Tonks," said Scrimegeour with a softer tone, "But you have to be completely honest with me now, completely. Understand?"

"Yes sir,"

"Okay then. Will you please tell me all you know about the Winchesters,"

"It's all on the record isn't it?" joked Tonks.

"Tonks,"

"Sorry sir," said Tonks, still remaining her eye contact with the motionless awards, she narrated the fantastic little tale that she had gone over with Moody and Dumbledore the night before, "Okay so I met the Winchesters whilst shopping around London. Dean flirted with me a bit and then he asked me out. I more or less said yes. I spent the rest of the day with him and his brother, in which I discovered they knew about the magical community,"

"And you didn't care to investigate how two Muggles knew?" he asked suspiciously.

Tonks shrugged, "Well I was shocked sir, but then I learnt that they were hunters," at his expression she quickly added, "It means that they hunt magical things that are hurting people –"

He waved her off, "I know what hunters are Tonks," he sighed, glancing up at the ceiling. Tonks heard him mutter, "Damn Americans," then he cleared his throat and returned to staring at her, like she was some interesting potion experiment gone wrong. "So did you learn what they were doing in England?"

This time Tonks did look Scrimegeour in the eye, "Dumbledore had asked them to teach at Hogwarts I think to give Muggle Studies a more personal touch – you know since they are Muggles so their knowledge would be valuable and since they already know about the Magical world then it really wouldn't be a exposure of magic,"

"Only Dumbledore," murmured Scrimegeour, face creasing as he made some quick mental notes, "You heard about their criminal records from yester –"

Tonks quickly cut in, "Which they wouldn't have if they didn't hunt, but since they do –"

"I'm not talking credit card fraud, or breaking and entering, or even grave discretion – I'm talking about murder –"

"Palo Alto?" asked Tonks suddenly.

"Dean mentioned it?" he pressed, quickly drawing conclusions.

"He found about my...abilities, sir, and for a second there –" she paused. She couldn't believe she was saying this, she had just told him that Dean was dangerous. Though, most definitely, he already thought that. Tonks sighed, remembering that morning when Dean had found out, the silent anger that had emerged, and for a second then, Tonks had been terrified. She hadn't shown it, hiding behind a mask, but she had been scared shitless for just that moment – she sighed, "He has the potential to be a threat, if he wanted to be he could be a danger..."

"But there is a but coming,"

Tonks lifted and eyebrow and nodded, "He wouldn't. Once I explained he calmed down, but that's not just it – his brother Sam...well Sam and him are like our Internal Affairs, they keep each other from going over the edge – well that's the way I see it. I don't see them as a threat to the Magical Community."

"You know them pretty well," he stated calmly, and then more roughly, "Well do you? How many times did you see them?"

"A couple – they're good people sir. If they were wizards I could see them as Aurors, seriously,"

Scrimegeour rested his palms on his desk, and closed his eyes for a moment. Tonks wondered what was going through her boss' head – he really could surprise people. Normally Tonks could pick up on what someone was thinking, a technique picked up through interrogations and only hardened by Moody, but he always escaped her.

He finally cracked his eyes open and got up, staring out the fake window that looked onto the 'London skyline'.

"Tonks if they went to trial would you defend them?"

Tonks blinked in surprise, "Yes, why?"

"Just think about your future when you do," Scrimegeour said nonchantly, "Fudge is on a warpath, obviously the Winchesters have some form of friendship with Dumbledore, and if you...just be careful, you're a good Auror, with many years ahead of you, don't screw it up over some guy you just met,"

Tonks flushed at the last comment; did he think she was being some lovesick teenager? She liked Dean obviously, but she barely knew him well enough to sacrifice her career, her life. Didn't he get it? She wouldn't give up everything without proof. She sighed. He had a strong point though, and once again Tonks saw that protective streak come out. But she already knew all that. "Sir –"

"Tonks, trust me, proceed carefully," said Scrimegeour sharply. He looked back down to the paperwork on his desk and picked up his quill and began to write. Looking up, he waved Tonks out, "You're dismissed,"

Tonks nodded and rose. She left the office and headed down the hall. Tonks quickly went towards Kingsley's cubicle. Stopping outside she said, "Shacklebolt?"

He glanced up, "What Tonks? This had better be im –"

In other words we don't usually work together so we don't want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves, Tonks thought. She walked in and whipped out her wand. Thinking of her meeting with Scrimegeour, she quickly stuck her wand in her ear, dropping her mind shields, and allowed the memories to flow into her wand.

She sauntered over to his desk, "I was wondering if you knew where to get form FC8?"

"I believe –" Tonks 'accidently' dropped her wand on his desk. He picked it up and flicked it up to his head, "Thomson has them," he handed back her wand, "Is that all you wanted?"

Tonks smiled, "Yeah, thanks,"

She left the cubicle and headed to her own.

* * *

_**Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts, Scotland**_

It had always been a mistake to hire her – he had known that from the start. Not that he had chosen to employ Umbridge, he had been forced by bloody Fudge. Dumbledore had always had a lot of patience for Fudge, but now the Minister was just being annoying and quite frankly stupid. Dumbledore stroked his beard, he would have to keep an even extra careful eye on Umbridge now.

"Albus," came a deep voice. Dumbledore looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt's face in the small mirror that stood on his desk. Dumbledore smiled briefly – he was grateful that he had gotten hold of Sirius' little spell – communicating through mirrors was a great way to talk to other Order members when they were on the go.

"Yes?"

"Tonks just came out from her meeting," Dumbledore watched as Kingsley waved a little glass vial around which contained a silver substance, "I have the memory here,"

"I'll send Fawkes' around lunch," said Dumbledore, "Leaky Cauldron?"

Kingsley nodded and then his face wavered, and the mirror changed back to normal. Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow up at his red and gold plumed phoenix. Fawkes stared back at the Headmaster.

"I have a little job for you,"

* * *

_**Cold Oak, South Dakota, America**_

Ava Wilson lay on an old couch, leaning against the warm and muscular body of Jake Talley. Jake was fast asleep, his chest rising in a gentle rhythm. It was soothing, listening to his soft breaths, inhaling his musky, spicy odour. She suspected the spicy part came from the Burritos he had cooked last night.

At her feet, lay a few other young adults, all from various countries around the world, whilst a couple lay on an old king sized bed. They were all fast asleep, a few of them snoring softly. Old scratchy woollen blankets covered her fellow soldiers, whilst a small fire crackled in the grate. All the windows were boarded over, and the floor was covered with a thick rug.

Glancing around the room, she decided she couldn't wait until they got out of this crack hole. For that is what Cold Oak was. Sure they had a whole town to themselves, but since nearly every single building was structurally unsound, all thirty five of them had all crammed into this one house. Half of them slept in one room, whilst the other half slept in the other.

They had a small crappy kitchen, in which they all pitched in to cook. At least they didn't have to go shopping, was all Ava could say – she hated supermarket shopping. Once a week a group of Azazel's lackeys would turn up with food – ranging from steak to cup cakes – and drop it off, leaving the kids to investigate.

She sighed and got up, easing herself up slowly from Jake. Carefully weaving around the sleeping bodies she made it to the door. She left the room and made her way down to the kitchen. She trod cautiously and slowly, not wanting to make a sound.

She reached the kitchen and headed over to the cupboard. Grabbing a large chocolate chip muffin she left the old house, and walked over to the fence line that boarded a small pitch where they would practice sparring.

Ava sat up on the fence, picking at her muffin, chewing it slowly. It was stale.

She threw it into the air. As it began to fall to the ground it stopped. As she squinted her eyes the muffin rocketed up into the air. Sticking her pinkie finger up, she made small circular motions in the air. The muffin also moved in the same direction.

"Howdy Ava," came a smooth southern male voice from behind her.

Ava grinned and slipped off the fence and turned.

"Howdy to you too," she greeted, leaning back against the fence.

"Now, why are you up so early?" the man asked raising his eyebrow.

"Couldn't sleep," she said, she glanced to the right, and looked at the dense trees that were the start of the forest that surrounded Cold Oak. She sighed and as her vision was swamped with the forest she was reminded of a certain brown haired boy.

"When's Sam coming?" she blurted out.

Azazel surveyed Ava for a second. He had an excellent poker face and she couldn't grasp what he was thinking. After a few tense minutes he cleared his throat, a small smile appearing on his face, "Soon enough,"

"He'll be out of practice," said Ava bluntly. She couldn't see why he wasn't here already. It was obvious; to her at least, that Sam was his favourite. Sure the rest of them fought for top dog but it was Sam. That little gleam of pride he got in his eyes when she sometimes mentioned him.

For these reasons, and the fact she missed him, it was mystery as to why Sam wasn't at Cold Oak already, training. Why would Azazel place Sam at such a disadvantage? Unless...

"Stop worrying about Sammy," said Azazel sharply, breaking her train of thought, "Worry about staying alive,"

She raised an eyebrow, "Huh?"

He smiled cruelly and the next moment he was gone.

**_TBC_**

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the late update, I actually had this written ages ago but alas I kept on writing and then I hit a snag and then my beta went on a holiday...oh and I had H/W...and well that's it. Anyway I hope you all enjoyed this and feel free to drop a line...


	11. Trouble is in the Air

**Author's Note: **I am so sorry for the gap in updates - major writer's block in regards to this fic and I do apologise. I hope you enjoy and please if you have the time tell me your thoughts. Also a big thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, alerted, and fave'd this story, for putting up with my crappy updating and everything. You guys are amazing and if I could I would hug you all. So thank you!

Also please note this chapter has not been beta'd so all mistakes are mine and mine alone - sorry!

**_The Road So Far: _**When Sam has a vision regarding Harry Potter, he and Dean venture to England to save the Boy-Who-Lived. While there they encounter the nearly resurrected Lord Voldemort and escape. However Dumbledore and Voldemort are after them, and after an encounter with some Dementors in an effort to save Harry, the brothers are taken to the Order of the Phoenix HQ. They are then given teaching jobs at Hogwarts as Muggle Studies professors. Dean has a heart to heart with Malfoy, Sam gets angry at Umbridge for slicing Harry's hand, oh and Umbridge has began to dig into the Winchesters past. Tonks (who has fallen for the roguish older hunter) has been questioned about the Winchesters, Azazel (the YED) is plotting once more, and Umbridge is now the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.

And so the adventure continues...

**Chapter 11: Trouble is in the Air**

**_A week later in a Muggle Studies Classroom, Hogwarts, Scotland_**

Maybe he should be concentrating on the class he was teaching, but Sam Winchester couldn't shake the knot that had formed in his stomach.

Ever since he'd read that article about Umbridge becoming High Inquisitor, he knew something bad was going to happen. Something bad always seemed to happen to him and his brother (and it had nothing to do with those mirrors in Toledo), it was something that Sam had come to terms with. Hell whenever they took a hunt some hidden element would reveal itself, making their lives a real bitch.

And with Umbridge playing mini dictator, he was just counting the moments to when he and Dean would be sent up to Dumbledore's office like a pair of naughty school kids. Sam was actually surprised that she hadn't called for them or turned up to examine their class yet.

She was minding her time it seemed – bitch.

So far they hadn't heard anything, so they went about business as usual, cramming Muggle info into the kids' brains. He had smirked slightly when one girl had mentioned that she thought this was a bludge subject. This wasn't going to be a bludge - no way.

Sam was actually pretty impressed with the way he and Dean were handling teaching. It didn't take much from Dean to get the message that he was in charge and that was it, no more arguments – though Sam realised he shouldn't be surprised – Dean had always been a natural teacher...even if it was how to get rid of evil spirits and fire a gun properly.

The only really frustrating thing with this teaching deal was the textbook all the students' had.

That 'textbook; was the biggest piece of crap Sam had seen...well actually it would be okay if they were still living in the eighties but they weren't. He and Dean found themselves writing up their own notes and enforcing a lot of note taking – to which every single student groaned and bitched about – except for the senior students who actually wanted to pass their exams.

Though that begged the question – had the wizardring world updated the exam papers?

He knew also that they needed to do some practical work soon...maybe get a microwave or a computer (not Sam's though - Dean was one thing but a bunch of kids? No way) and teach them how to use it. Only problem was getting the damn things to work – Sam's laptop was already having regular hiccups and Sam highly doubted that Flitwick would want to be on twenty four hour tech support.

The bell rang to signal the end of class and Dean dismissed the students with a wave of his hand.

"I'm even falling asleep," said Dean dryly.

"Yeah, well, we need to teach them the basics Dean,"

"Still they weren't learn anything if they're bored,"

"Is that why you nearly failed your senior year?"

Dean cracked a grin, "Partially, but hey I was going on a hunt every second week -"

"-And dating that cheerleader,"

Dean smiled thoughtfully, "Yeah...Millie, I think...besides I was taking care of you,"

"Sorry for being a burden,"

"Don't be - you're the reason teachers took pity on me," he said truthfully.

Sam rolled his eyes – but now it did make sense that Dean hadn't been expelled...

"We could bribe them..." mused Dean.

He stared at his brother for a moment, "What?"

"The kids... ya know?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "No bribing,"

"Why not? I've gotten bribed, you got bribe to leave hunting for college with that full ride, in fact every school kid in the world is being bribed to excel in order to get that A, or to win a snake in trivia games - everything has a price,"

"Sure you're not channelling a dead philosopher Dean?" smirked Sam. But Dean was making sense (not that he didn't normally) hell Dean had taught him about hunting, telling him what he had learnt from dad. Dean was a teacher - a great one at that – one that knew how to push people.

"I'm not channelling anything Sammy,"

"I suppose not," said Sam with a small smile, "Besides spirits would probably have a hard time getting over the school's protection charms - unless they were brought in by someone...and the ghosts here don't seem to need -"

Dean held up his hand to cut Sam off, "Woah college boy!"

Sam grinned, "So, who we got next?" he flipped through their timetable, "No one - but after lunch it's the seventh years,"

"We should teach those kids to drive," said Dean suddenly.

"What the Impala?" joked Sam.

"Not funny Sammy," said Dean seriously, "And I really mean it - teach 'em how to drive,"

"Okay, let's ask Dumbledore then," grinned Sam. He couldn't see the old man agreeing with it – especially with Umbridge on the loose – if one of the kids accidentally crashed...he frowned. Actually it was a good idea for the kids to learn. He pursed his lips, brushing away his bangs and said, "I guess we'd need to take them to London - hell we could even take them to the movies and get them to spend a day being, well, normal,"

"And while we're at it we can start a camp called 'Be a Muggle'" deadpanned Dean, "And they can all learn about peace and harmony and -"

Sam rolled his eyes again.

Dean smirked, and the two brothers left the room, and began to make the trek up to Dumbledore's office. They were just walking up yet another flight of stairs (who built this damn castle?) when suddenly a large crack filled the air. Sam's hand sprung back to Damien's knife which rested on his belt, whilst Dean's fists clenched.

They turned around to see a house elf dressed in a tea cosy and odd socks.

"Youse Winchesters, sirs?" asked the elf politely.

"Yeah, what do you want?" asked Dean, body relaxing.

"Headmaster had asked Dobby to find youse, because Umbridge and Minister wants a meeting with youse, sirs," said Dobby nodding vigorously. Sam raised his eyebrow at the slight bitterness when the elf said Umbridge's name.

"Thanks Dobby," said Dean with a small smile.

"No problems sir," Dobby squeaked, "Anytime sir, just call Dobby – Dobby will help youse no matter what sirs,"

"Thanks," said Sam in an offhand tone, glancing at Dean.

"A friend of Harry Potter, sir, is a friend of Dobby," said the elf simply, "Oh and sirs?" they looked at him, "The Headmaster likes Mars Bars," the Winchester stared at each in confusion and then looked back to Dobby, who clicked - and crack he was gone!

"I thought Apparation didn't work in Hogwarts," said Dean in shock, pointing at where Dobby had stood.

"Maybe House Elves are different...demon's aren't supposed to go on Holy Ground but Meg did," said Sam, biting his lip slightly, mind racing.

"Wonder what Harry did," mused Dean, quirking an eyebrow. He sighed, "We'd better go,"

Sam nodded, that knot in his stomach tightening considerably. He wondered what Dean was thinking but his older brother was hiding his feelings behind a poker face and for once Sam couldn't read him. They reached the entrance to the Headmaster's office and Dean quipped, "Gargoyles,"

Two gargoyles were guarding the entrance way, of course. Though as the Winchesters approached, Sam was relived to discover that they didn't make any snide comments - like a certain other pair of gargoyles. Sam frowned, "We'll need a password,"

"The one time I have paperclips," muttered Dean, and then he snapped his fingers, "What did Dobby say about Dumbledore liking -"

"Mars Bars!" exclaimed Sam.

Suddenly a grinding sound filled the air, as the gargoyles moved aside, and a winding stair case was revealed. Sam shook his head in slight disbelief, and the two hunters bounded up the stairs. They reached Dumbledore's office door and Dean pounded on the door briefly.

"Necessary? There is a knocker," asked Sam, staring at the large brass one on the Headmaster's door.

Dean shrugged, "Be glad I didn't kick it down,"

The door sprung open, and the Winchesters entered the headmaster's office. The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, face calm, eyes set on an empty bird perch, breathing softly. McGonagall was standing a few feet from him, glaring at the other occupants, body tense. There was a little man with rumpled grey hair, and a lime green bowler hat near the fire, a sly smile on his aging face. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood beside another wizard with short wiry hair like bodyguards. There was also a red haired horned-rimmed bespectacled man who Sam guessed was the infamous Percy Weasley.

Oh and there was Umbridge...

But she really wasn't worth mentioning in great detail.

A quick glance around the room told him all the portraits of the previous heads were all alert, eyes on the Winchesters, a few inaudible whispers between them. Sam glanced at Dean, whose face looked grim, jaw tense. Dean caught his eye, and inclined his head slightly.

Taking a glance around the room, Sam said smoothly, "What seems to be the problem?"

'Green bowler' came forward, a fierce look of triumphant on his face.

"Well..." he said, "so you are the Winchesters?"

Dean shot him a venomous look, "And you are?"

"Samuel, Dean," said Dumbledore, "This is the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge,"

Dean couldn't keep the smirk off his face.

And neither could Sam.

What was with Wizards and names?

Fudge glared at them both.

Dumbledore continued the introductions, "And this is Percy Weasley," red head, "and Auror Shacklebolt," no shit, "and Auror Dawlish," the wiry haired one.

"So you are Samuel and Dean Winchester, correct?" said Fudge.

"Last time I checked," responded Dean dryly.

Sam sighed, "Why are we here?"

"The Minister is troubled...at your presence at the school," said Dumbledore softly. Sam threw Dean a look, great, just great. Sure he'd been expecting it, Umbridge had made that clear but it wasn't even lunch. He thought it would have all taken place at night or in the morning – not lunch.

"'Course," sighed Dean, "So what's the issue?"

"You don't know?" said Fudge cheerfully. Sam couldn't help but wonder how this guy became Minister of Magic...

"Obviously not," said Sam, rolling his eyes.

"Well, well, well,"

"Get to the point," cut off Dean.

Fudge grinned, eyes like a wolf circling it's prey. Umbridge took this moment to speak up. "You two are both criminals -"

"And?"

"Your point is?"

Umbridge's cheeks flushed slightly, whilst the hunters just grinned slyly. She drew a deep breath and puffed out her chest slightly, "Breaking and entering, credit card fraud -"

"Does she even know what credit card fraud is?" muttered Sam to Dean.

Dean grinned.

"Grave discretion, false imprisonment, posing as an officer of the law, indentify theft," continued Fudge a little louder, before he said dramatically, "And it get's better!"

"St. Louis," murmured Dean, casting a wary glance at Sam.

"Indeed," said Fudge. He turned to the Headmaster, "I have to say Dumbledore - Moody was one thing, but two wanted criminals who are Muggles nonetheless?"

Sam was about to respond when Dumbledore said gravely, "You are making a mistake Cornelius,"

"I think not," smirked Fudge, "I'm just shocked that you showed magic to -"

"Hold up," interrupted Dean, "Showed us? You're kidding right?"

"He didn't show us anything!" said Sam, throwing his arms up. He was surprised; surely they would have researched them better? He had expected for the whole 'they kill magical beings' trian of thought with a list of crimes thrown in, not some half-assed 'you showed Muggles (that happen to criminals) magic'. This was madness! He rolled his eyes, continuing, "We hunt for Christs sake - hell all those offences are absolute bullcrap,"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, we protect people since US Aurors are little wu -" at McGonagall's glare he froze for a moment, "well they don't do their job so -"

Fudge's eyes had been widening by the minute and he turned to Dumbledore and said softly, "What is a hunter? What is this nonsense?"

"Are you seriously Minister for Magic?" asked Dean, raising his eyebrow, disbelief etched on his face.

Kingsley spoke up, his smooth voice calming the room, "Hunters are non-magic humans who deal with matters of magic in a simple 'get rid of it' form, and generally only will hunt if a magical being turns violent and begins to hurt other non-magical humans, sir."

"Well then this is an even bigger problem!" exploded Fudge, "They could have killed -"

"We wouldn't kill innocent kids, what d'you think we are?" asked Dean.

"You kill magical -"

"We protect people," argued Sam, "We save people from vengeful spirits, demons, vampires, monsters, we do our research and we protect the innocents,"

"But you would kill a wizard!" said Fudge.

Sam glanced briefly at the empty bird perch, "If they harmed innocents..." his voice trailed off.

"As you can see Cornelius, the circumstances of which the Winchesters are in are unique - this isn't a time for a brash decision," said Dumbledore calmly.

"You stay out of it Dumbledore," quipped Fudge, eyes narrowing. He turned to the Winchesters, "You two are both fired, and I order for your memories to be erased, and then transported to the proper au -"

"On what charges?" asked Sam loudly.

"On being -"

"Sir," interrupted Kingsley, "Be careful, this is a serious breach of our laws..."

"They are Muggles!" cried out Fudge, "There is no breach – I am doing this for our and their own pro –"

"You do this Minister and you could start something you don't want to face!" said McGonagall shrilly.

"And what would that be Minerva?" sneered Umbridge in a sugary sweet voice.

McGonagall seemed to be resisting the urge to transfigure Umbridge into a toad. She drew in a deep breath, "Do you honestly think they are the only hunters?"

"What are hunters going to do?" asked Fudge.

"Obviously something," shrugged Dean, though he realistically knew they wouldn't since no hunters actually knew where they were. But he wasn't going to let Fudge know this. He continued, "Well if you want to get rid of us so badly then you obviously think we're a threat. And if we aren't a threat then why are you overacting?"

"I -"

"You can't have it both ways Minister," chided Dean.

"Fine, we'll have a hearing to decide this!"

"Looks like that higher education of yours will be put to use," smirked Dean, nudging Sam. Sam grinned, but he was still glaring at the Minister.

"Dumbledore I'll send an owl of the date and time," said Fudge, "I will see you two in court,"

"Looking forward to it," replied Dean.

Fudge looked enraged, and promptly trotted out of Dumbledore's office, Umrbidge, Kingsley, Weasley, and that other Auror bloke following. The door was closed with a large bang leaving the rest of them to contemplate their situation.

"What's worst case scenario?" asked Sam to Dumbledore.

"What he wanted to do first," shrugged Dean, "We'll need to build a case,"

Sam nodded, mind already racing over the possibilities.

"Is there anyone that can - ?" asked McGonagall.

Dean shook his head, "It's probably better we don't bring any other hunters into this..."

"Yeah," agreed Sam. Sure they had a bit of self control, but some hunters were just brutal. It would be better for everyone if no other hunters were brought in.

McGonagall nodded curtly, "We'll contact the US Magical Authorities so we can express why there are hunters over there,"

"That'll work - St. Louis...?"

Sam glanced at Dean, his brother's expression unreadable.

"Nymphadora will be able to demonstrate, the rest is theory," piped in Dumbledore.

"Won't that screw with her Order responsibilities in the Ministry," said Dean sharply.

"It may..."

"But?"

"She's already in hot water with her boss and she's willing to help,"

Dean opened his mouth, maybe to protest. Sam was almost ready to join him but he knew they needed to build a case. And if Tonks was already in hot water - well when this whole thing, the whole big final confrontation came along they'd all be in hot water.

"We got work to do..." said Sam. Dean grunted, and the two brother's turned to leave. Dean had just yanked the door open when Dumbledore called, "Oh and Dean, I'll authorise the students to learn how to drive...but let's wait until after the hearing,"

Dean glanced back, and nodded.

Once they were a fair way from the Headmaster's office, Dean said softly, "That was creepy,"

Sam nodded in agreement.

* * *

**_Andy's House, Gutherie, Oklahoma_**

Andy was so freaking bored.

He sat slumped on his couch, flicking through the TV, eyes not taking any of it in though. He glanced out the window, sighing. Oh how he longed to be out there, having the wind tousle his hair, walk under the sun's golden rays, be himself again.

Ever since he had met the Winchesters, he'd been damn nervous...scared. So he'd done his research, brought a house for three hundred dollars (his gift did have benefits), gotten enough food supplies and DVD's to last him ten years (once again at a severely discounted price), and a running machine. Then he'd confined himself to his house, spending days on end with his bong, or watching day time TV...

Yep, life pretty much sucked.

He did nothing all day, had the sorest neck ever, Tracey wouldn't talk to him, and he was under house arrest (which he brought for that purpose but it still sucked). Not to mention his van was sitting out front, like some rejected puppy, unloved by his master. He had never imagined that this would be his life.

He sighed and walked over to his front door, and unlocked it. Stepping carefully over the thick salt line, he smiled as the wind caressed his face. Yawning loudly, he stretched.

Seeing the outside world told Andy one thing.

Screw this.

He went inside, packed a bag, and headed over to his van.

And he was off.

* * *

**_Staff Room, Hogwarts, Scotland_**

"Okay I'm sick of them," said Dean as they entered the staff room. The frigging gargoyles were seriously getting on his nerves. He was not going to deal with them and the gargoyle. And he certainly wasn't going to wait around for the order of Super Sticky Chewing Gum from Honeydukes to arrive to stuff down the damn things throats.

"Me too," said Sam, glaring at the door, "How long does it take to get an order of chewing gum?"

"Well I'm not waiting any longer," said Dean. He strolled over to the fireplace and grabbed a fire poker, examining it carefully. Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Dean?"

"What?" asked Dean looking at Sam, "I'm not going to smash them – just threaten them a little,"

"And you think they'll be threatened?" gaped Sam, "They are talking stone Dean,"

Dean glared at his little brother. Wait a second...talking stone...stone couldn't talk...of course a charm could make them...but that would mean they were possessed or something with magical energy...

He grinned wildly, "It's either that or I'm gonna exorcise them,"

"What –"

"Think about it Sam,"

Dean then left his brother to go threaten the gargoyles.

After that they didn't bother the Winchesters.

* * *

**_Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts, Scotland_**

"I learnt more in my first class with Lockhart about defence then in these last three weeks," muttered Ron as he read through his Potion's class. Harry glanced up at his friend, yawning. Quidditch training had just picked up again and Angelina was working the team to death. Not that he could blame her...they did need practice if they wanted to win. Harry looked carefully at Ron – and Ron needed to get more confident on the pitch.

Anyway because of these extra training sessions Harry and Ron had taken to staying up late to finish their homework while Hermione knitted House Elf clothes. At least detentions were no longer a problem.

"But we didn't learn anything in our first lesson with Lockhart..." said Harry slowly, yawning.

"Exactly,"

"Even Trelawney is a better teacher," piped up Hermione, looking up from her knitting.

Ron and Harry just stared at her.

Sadly though it was true, so very true.

* * *

**_Hogwarts Grounds, Hogwarts, Scotland_**

The next two weeks passed without great incident.

Besides the fact that Umbridge was now breathing down their necks, and Sam was uncomfortably being reminded of being back in prison – Dean said it was nothing like it since there were no smokes. Oh and the fact they seemed to be spending every free minute, in the library building a case. Well, that was an over exaggeration.

The trial date had been set for November. According to Dumbledore he had gotten in contact with someone in the court system to postpone it for as long as possible. Dean would rather just get it over and done with, but he knew it was better this way – according to Sam a lot of trials were rushed in the Magical world and just by looking at older cases his younger brother's legal mind could see all the flaws. Dean also knew that Dumbledore wanted to keep them in the Hogwarts grounds as for as long as possible since no demon could reach them within the old castle's walls.

Dean had to say – he was slightly happy about their court trial – if only for the fact that Tonks had had to visit them since Dumbledore had subpoenaed her as a witness. He and Tonks had developed an almost silent way of communication as to not reveal anything about their personal relationship to the inhabitants of Hogwarts. Not that it was a perfect method since half the time they just stared at each other, confused.

Naturally Umbridge had questioned how much time they needed Tonks since they only needed her to phase but Sam would just rolled his eyes and rattled off some laws or something and she shut up pretty quickly.

They soon had established an exercise routine as well. Hunting had kept them fit, but because of a certain new diet and sitting on their asses all day they were both a little concerned. So every morning, they'd get up, and have a jog around the grounds, stretch a bit, and when they were alone practice sparring. They had wanted to have some target practice but knew better then to...Dean didn't even want to imagine explaining to Umbridge why they had guns with them.

"You know?" puffed Sam, one cool brisk morning.

"Uh huh?" grunted Dean, his head down, as his feet

"We should get some kids doing this,"

Dean stopped in his tracks, "What?"

"Exercise," said Sam following suit.

"You wanna start a little running club?"

Sam shifted his feet, "Yeah..."

"What are you - gay?" said Dean. He rolled his eyes. As apart of the whole exercise thing he'd worn a pair of old shorts. He didn't do shorts on a regular basis but after much nagging that it would be easier then jeans he'd agreed.

"Dean, these kids - besides the ones that play Quidditch and even so -" at Dean's glare he hurried along, "Well, they have no physical exercise, and they need to build up some endurance. Hell, what's the use of being a powerful wizard if you can't even run a hundred metres without passing out?"

Dean grinned, and ran his hand through his hair, "You actually cracked a joke Sam, wow, I'm -"

"I'm serious,"

"I know you are," said Dean, with a small roll of his eyes, "But Sam, these kids ain't seeing me in shorts - not today, not ever,"

Sam grinned, "You look fine – besides I bet the students wouldn't mind,"

Dean cringed. The female Hogwarts student body (besides the Slytherin ones) were scaring him. They seemed to constantly track him or Sam down, using dodgy excuses like needing help with their homework – well actually they did need help, but they did drag on the 'I just need five minutes' to half an hour by constantly asking pointless questions.

Well actually that was a generalisation – not everyone was that bad, but Dean was sure at least a few were building a shrine for him and his brother.

"Great," mumbled Dean, before taking off. He grinned as he heard Sam yell after him. He ran across the grounds, feet pounding, heart racing, eyes on the gamekeeper's cabin. He jolted down the hill, careful with his footing as he dodged rocks, and bushes.

He was careful to land on his toes, so he could leap lightly across, and not be heavy footed, and cause an ankle injury. Sam wasn't far behind him, his longer legs aiding in catching up. Not that Dean was worried, Sam had always been faster, he was built for that, but when the push came to shove, Dean knew he'd win.

They continued to race, Dean grinning widely. As he hit the bottom of the slope he quickly redirected, bolting past the gamekeeper's cabin, and into the forest. His lack of height helped here, as he ducked and weaved through some low hanging branches.

Once he hit a clearing he ducked behind some trees, waiting for Sam to appear. His ears twitched at every sound as he slowed his breathing. He could still hear Sam coming through the under bush. He grinned. This was going to be quick.

Dean frowned though when he didn't see Sam. Damn it, now Sam was hunting him. He strained his ears but he couldn't hear his giant of a brother. He quickly moved, keeping low, when suddenly he heard a yell from Sam.

His blood turned cold.

He knew that yell.

Sam was having a vision.

* * *

**_On the Road, America_**

It was a good morning.

No scratch that, it was a great morning.

Andy Gallagher sat in his van, foot on the pedal, humming a merry tune under his breath, a large smile on his face. His whole body seem to jump and tingle, as the radio blared out Flathead by the Fratelis. His fingers drummed against the wheel.

He'd decided to ditch Gutherie and head out onto the road. Test his abilities - live a little. He'd gone down to Vegas (it had been a tossup between that or the Grand Canyon), and he was now considering heading up to New York to see an old friend. It hadn't been that hard leaving - he had no one that wanted him. Not even Tracey...

In the end that had been the dealbreaker - Tracey didn't want him. Even though he'd never used his gifts on her, she still didn't want him. She thought he was a freak, or maybe that he was dangerous. But he wasn't like his brother (if he could even call him that). Brothers didn't kill their brother's girlfriends - brothers were like Sam and Dean not like him and god damn Webber.

So now he was on the road, a sing in his head, a smile on his face, and not a care in the world.

He glanced at his watch. It was about ten thirty. Glancing at an upcoming road sign, he saw he had three miles before he reached a diner. Perfect - some coffee, pancakes with maple syrup, and then back on the road. Sounded like a plan.

He turned up the music and gunned the pedal, racing down the road. He soon reached the small diner, and he parked, and got out. Stretching his legs, he yawned widely, and wandered over to the diner. He strutted in, uncomfortably aware that he was getting quite a few stares from the occupants.

He frowned, glancing down briefly. Oh yeah....his dressing gown...well then...in that case. He smiled calmly at them, and his head he began to chant softly, _You don't care about me or my dressing gown, you don't care about me or my dressing gown, you care about yourselves and your business, not about me or my dressing gown..._

They all went back to talking amongst themselves.

Andy chuckled slightly, and swung into a booth, reading the menu, though he wasn't interested in it. The waitress came up and deadpanned, "What would you like?"

Grinning he said, "Some coffee and Pancakes with Maple Syrup, Icing Sugar, Strawberries, and Icecream,"

She rolled her eyes, "We don't have Pancakes with - "

_You want to give me my pancakes; in fact you are going to give me my pancakes..._

She looked dazed for a moment and then she blinked, nodding, "Course sir, your meal will be on its way."

_Oh yeah go me, go me, go me!_

The woman stared at him for a moment, and Andy smiled back cheerfully, though secretly cursing himself for not turning off the 'Force'. He chuckled slightly - Dean would get that one. He leaned against the leather seat, tapping a gentle rhythm on the table. He glanced curiously around the room, observing his surroundings and waiting for his pancakes to arrive. God, he was hungry, and his stomach sure was telling him that.

He noticed it then, the slight burning smell of meat. No one else in the diner seemed to notice it though. Alarm bells seem to be going off in his head, his gut clenching slightly. Something wasn't right - he could just tell and he didn't need death visions to tell him so.

He leaped to his feet, and quickly raced off, ignoring the stares and the waitress that was calling him back. He flung himself out of the door, and bolted towards his van. He looked back briefly.

And froze.

All the customers were dead - he could see it from here. He swallowed deeply, heart racing, hands running through his hair. He felt sick...all those people...

_Get up, get up,_ he ordered desperately.

They didn't.

_I said GET UP! NOW!_

They still didn't.

No way something human had killed all those people that quickly. No, it was something else...his hand reached into his gowns pockets and he grabbed his phone. Finding Sam's number, he called the hunter, glancing around, unsure of what to do.

Sam didn't pick up.

He tried Dean's.

He didn't pick up either.

Pocketing his phone, he swore slightly. Shit, shit, shit...what the hell could he do? Those poor people! Who...or what would do something like that? Who could just kill -

"Howdy Andy," cooed a voice from behind.

Andy jumped, and wheeled around quickly to meet a pair of fluorescent yellow eyes.

* * *

**_Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts Grounds, Scotland_**

"Andy," gasped Sam as he opened his eyes to see Dean leaning over him. He struggled for air, his head thumping. He closed his eyes tightly and dug his nails into his forearm to distract himself from his aching head.

"What about Andy?" asked Dean in concern.

"Azazel he has him," said Sam, "We need to tell Dumbledore...or something!"

Dean swore. He helped Sam to his feet and Sam gritted his teeth, and slumped slightly against his brother. Sam licked his lips; he needed water...shit that had been painful. He felt as if he had gone five rounds with a bull. He couldn't believe it, Andy...not Andy...

* * *

**_Library, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland_**

The library was usually a very quiet place.

It was the way Madame Irma Pince liked it. Loud noises had never been a forte of hers ever since her brother's eardrums had burst after a potion's explosion a few years ago. Loud noises were not a good thing in her books and it wasn't because they distracted students from their reading.

So when she heard an outcry from the study area, she immediately got up and briskly walked over there. It was absolutely ridiculous that teenagers couldn't be quiet for more than a few minutes – was it that hard. She had never had any trouble being quiet when growing up.

"I can't teach!"

She froze at that voice – that was Harry Potter.

She was probably better off not knowing what those three were up too.

Or interrupting them since they were obviously studying...right?

Irma went back to her desk deciding she'd tell them off if they didn't quieten down in the next ten minutes.

**_TBC_**

**Author's Notes:** I hope that you enjoyed it. Thank you once again. Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes and what not.

Also the Toledo Mirror incident mentioned at the start is a reference to the Season One Supernatural Ep 'Bloody Mary'


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